


Closing the Circle

by Emospritelet



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fingerfucking, Magic, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Restraints, Smut, Snark, Vampire!Gold and Monster Hunter!Belle, Vampires, Verbal Sparring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-08-11 16:03:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 36,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16478630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emospritelet/pseuds/Emospritelet
Summary: Storybrooke gets many visitors, but few stay long, so Mr Gold is intrigued when a young woman wants to reopen the library.  Intrigued enough to pay her a visit.Winner of Best Smut: Kink and Best AU Gold/Rumple in The Espenson Awards 2019





	1. Chapter 1

He decided that he would have her from the very first moment.

It was a dark, unpleasant day, a late afternoon in October, the bitter wind tinged with ice making passers-by shiver and push their chins down into their scarves.  Granny’s Diner had carved pumpkins outside the door and orange lights strung around the windows and along the fence in an attempt to bring a little cheer, but Maine in late fall was cold and dreary.  Or so people told him. He liked the winter months. Summer, when it came, seemed to last an eternity.

From his position across the street he could see that the lights were on in the once-deserted library, and the young woman that had caught his interest was just inside the open doorway.  She was sweeping, brisk strokes of a broom across the wooden floor, and she caught the dust in a plastic pan, tipping it into the trash can that she had placed outside. She glanced across the street, eyes narrowing as though she could sense him watching her from the shadows.  She was short and pale, dark hair pulled up in a bun on the top of her head, red lips pursed. Her limbs were shapely, her body beautifully curved, and he imagined she was strong for her size. Delicious.

He had first learned of her intention to rent out the library when Mayor Mills had raised the issue, informing him that she had received an enquiry about it from a woman named Miss French.  He had felt a tingle of - something - go through him then. A tiny thing, but significant, as though it were a shift in his destiny. As though his fate had been altered irrevocably. He had pretended it didn’t matter to him; the position of librarian was decided upon by the Town Council, after all, and so he had left the key to the building with the Mayor’s daughter Regina, retaining the one to the caretaker’s apartment to hand over himself, along with the contract that Miss French was to sign.  He couldn’t resist that. The tingle in his skin, the tug deep down in his groin told him that there was something about this new arrival that he had to see for himself. It was that feeling that had made him take the long walk from his house on the edge of town to the main street of Storybrooke late on a Tuesday afternoon. He wasn’t sure what he had expected to find, but his eyes scanned her with rising hunger as she set aside the broom and wiped her brow.

He had watched her carry in three suitcases and numerous boxes from the little Toyota she drove, and he settled back on one heel, fingers closing around the gold handle of his cane as a U-Haul truck pulled up outside.  Its wheels scattered dried leaves, the brakes squeaking a little as it parked, and Miss French straightened up and smiled. Another young woman got out of the truck, black hair tied back in a shining ponytail, eyes darting around suspiciously before she opened up the back.  He leaned forward, curious, but simply saw more boxes, and a small trolley stashed in beside them. The woman lifted it out, and began lifting boxes and stacking them onto the trolley.

“Thanks so much for doing this, Mulan,” said Miss French.  “I owe you a beer.”

Her voice was delightful, a low cadence, an unexpected accent.  Idly, he wondered how she sounded in the heat of passion, and pushed the thought from his head.  Too distracting.

“You owe me several.”  Mulan grinned, dropping another box onto the pile and grasping the handles of the trolley.  “D’you just want these inside?”

“Please.  I’ll shelve everything later.  I need to go through the existing stock anyway.”

Books, then.  So she _was_ reopening the library.  Strange, after it had been closed for so many years.  He wondered what had brought her to Storybrooke, of all places.  Strangers were common in the town, but they only ever passed through.  The woods and hills surrounding the area were wild and beautiful, popular with hikers and hunters up from Boston, not to mention teenagers who wanted a quiet place to drink beer, smoke pot and have sex.  If they came back to town babbling about what they had seen in the long shadows of the night, few paid them any mind, and if one or two of the weekend hunters went missing from time to time — well, that was only to be expected when city boys came to the woods.  Sometimes a body was found, but the area around the town was vast, and wild animals usually got to them first. Or so the police reports stated.

He watched as the two women went back and forth to the truck carrying boxes, and eventually Mulan took a holdall from inside and locked the back doors as Miss French dusted off her hands and rolled her shoulders with a sigh of relief.

“Aurora got us a room at that bed and breakfast back down the road,” said Mulan.  “I left her unpacking. You want to bunk with us tonight? I’m guessing this place could use a good clean.”

_What’s her name?  Use her name, I want to hear it._

“I thought I’d make a start while I have the energy,” said Miss French cheerfully.  “It’ll be nice to get a feel for the place anyway. I’ll meet you for those beers, though.  Eight o’clock?”

“It’s a date.”

They hugged, and Mulan slipped the keys to the truck into the pocket of her jeans, leaving the truck parked outside and heading off towards Granny’s.  Miss French watched her go with a smile, then turned, her eyes sweeping across the patch of shadow where he stood motionless. Her brow crinkled a little, but he knew she couldn’t see him, and he stayed stock-still, waiting for her gaze to pass him by.  After a moment she shrugged a little, turning to head back into the library, and he reaffirmed his decision. He would have her. It had been too long since he had indulged his passions, and she was just too tempting to pass up.

* * *

Belle French closed the door behind her, looking around the library with a satisfied feeling deep in her belly. There was a dry, dusty scent in the air, the smell of old books and an undertone of beeswax polish. It felt almost like being home.  She had been planning the move to Storybrooke for some time, and now that her old apartment in Boston was sold, she had the money and the freedom to make it a reality.  Her own library, in the little town that she had read so much about. Mulan and Aurora agreeing to accompany her was a bonus.

She walked up and down between the stacks of books, running her eyes over the titles there and making a mental note of what needed to go and what could stay.  Fortunately she had amassed a fairly large collection with which to replace them, and she knew she would be spending the next few days sorting through everything and setting up the new computer system.  Not to mention finalising the details of her new tenancy. Regina Mills, the Mayor’s daughter, had run through the requirements of the librarian position and handed over the key, a curious expression in her dark eyes.  Perhaps the town was unused to new arrivals.

The library came with an apartment above, a narrow set of stairs leading to it, but the key she had been given didn’t fit the lock.  She was aware that the Town Hall didn’t own the property, and imagined that she would need to speak to the landlord personally about the living arrangements.  She ran a hand over the cool wood of the door and chewed her lip, wondering if she should return to the Mayor’s office and ask how to contact the owner. The squeak of the front doors below made her glance back over her shoulder, and she tucked the library key into her pocket, heading back down the stairs.

The weather outside was cold and dank, the sky dark grey with the promise of snow, but the open blinds let in enough light to see by.  The figure of a man was silhouetted against the windows, and she stopped, standing a few yards back from him. He wasn’t much taller than she, and slightly-built, his hands folded around the ornate gold handle of a walking cane.  Belle took a step backwards and flicked on the lights, wanting to sigh in relief as their warmth poured over the room. The man smiled at her, brown hair falling around a thin face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He was dressed immaculately in a three-piece suit with a black silk shirt and tie.  Gold cufflinks gleamed at his wrists, and sunglasses covered his eyes, the lenses the same dark brown as his hair.

“Miss French, I presume?” he said.  “I’m Mr Gold.”

His voice was soft, tinged with a Scottish accent, and she licked her lips a little nervously.

“Mr Gold,” she said.  “You must be the landlord.  Thank you for agreeing to rent out the place.”

Mr Gold smiled briefly, and looked away, taking a step towards the racks of shelving.

“Well, the pursuit of knowledge is something to be commended,” he said lazily, eyeing the books.  “Ignorance can have unfortunate consequences.”

“I agree.”

A soft voice, whispering in the back of her mind in honeyed, lilting tones, was telling her to step closer.  She ignored it, shoving it aside until it was muffled and dim, and he turned slowly on the balls of his feet to face her.

“I have a contract,” he said.  “As I understand it, you’ve discussed everything regarding the librarian position with Miss Mills, but the tenancy agreement itself is with me.”

“I understand,” she said.  “Would you like to go through the terms now?”

She stepped over to the circulation desk, feeling a strange sense of relief at putting some distance between them, and Mr Gold followed, cane clicking on the wooden floor until he was standing on the other side of the counter.  He removed the glasses, folding down the arms and placing them in his breast pocket, tucked beside a red silk handkerchief. His nostrils flared as he turned back to face her, his lips slightly parted, and for a moment she caught a glimpse of the tip of his tongue, as though he was running it over his teeth.  Her heart was starting to thump hard, but she stood her ground, meeting eyes that were deep brown, the pupils dark pits. Yellow light from the lamps gleamed in their depths, a hint of promise in the darkness, and Mr Gold reached inside his jacket, drawing out a neatly-folded sheaf of papers and placing it on the desk.

“The agreement,” he said.  “I require your signature. And payment, of course.”

He reached into his pocket again, but instead of a key he drew out a black and gold pen and placed it carefully on the desk.  His gaze was steady, and Belle licked her lips, unfolding the papers and starting to read through them. The tenancy agreement appeared to be fairly standard, and there was nothing she could see that was unreasonable, so she wrote her name where required, signed and dated it, and pushed the papers back across the desk to him.  Mr Gold took hold of the contract between finger and thumb, turning it around and looking it over.

“Belle,” he said softly.  “What a lovely name.”

He spoke her name with care, holding it gently in his mouth.  One finger traced the path of her signature, and a shiver ran through her, as though he had drawn it on her naked skin.  He had long, slender fingers with shining, manicured nails, and for a brief moment she wondered how it would feel to have him touch her.  He looked up sharply, eyes searching hers, and she shoved the thoughts away again, hoping she wouldn’t blush. Mr Gold picked up the pen, signing his name with a flourish, and tucked the pen back into his pocket, handing her one copy of the contract and taking the other for himself.

“I - I understand there’s an apartment on the floor above,” she said.

“The apartment has one bedroom, a lounge-diner, kitchen and bathroom,” he said.  “All rooms are a good size and there is heating throughout. I had the heating checked just last week, so everything should be in working order.  You’re aware that I requested a small damage deposit?”

“Yes,” she said, feeling a little flustered.  “I - uh - have the cash here.”

She reached for her purse, taking out the cash she had gathered for the first month’s rent and deposit and setting it on the counter.  Mr Gold eyed her for a moment, then began separating the bills with long fingers before counting it out. He nodded when he was done, and wrote the amount as paid on her contract, signing and dating it.  Her heart was still thudding in her chest, and she was shifting from foot to foot beneath the counter, nervously awaiting his next move. He reached into his other pocket, bringing out a silver key and holding it up to her.

“It seems we have an agreement,” he said.  “Would you like me to show you around?”

“Thanks, but I’ll be okay.”  She took the key, slipping it into her pocket.  “Do I contact you if there are any problems?”

He nodded briskly.

“I have an antique shop down the road,” he said.  “Opening hours are eight until six. You can find me there.”

She nodded, and he took a step back, walking slowly in amongst the stacks.  Her nervousness appeared to have abated, and so she followed him, watching as he ran a finger over the spines of the books.

“What brings you to Storybrooke, Miss French?” he asked, glancing around.

“The pursuit of knowledge,” she answered, throwing his own words back at him, and he grinned.

“Seems a long way to come for relatively little,” he said.  “Are you fond of travel?”

“When I get the opportunity,” she said.  “Sometimes I think you need to go out into the world and experience it.  Not just hide at home and read about it.”

“Well, you’ll have no arguments from me on that front,” he said.  “The world is filled with many strange and wonderful things, after all.  Even in little towns like Storybrooke.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she said.  “I’ve always thought that the smallest communities sometimes have the darkest secrets.”

He turned to face her properly, swivelling slowly on the toes of his shining shoes.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said.  “Are you here to shine a light on us?”

His eyes seemed to bore into her, and she swallowed past an unexpected lump in her throat.

“If I can do that by simply opening a library, then - yes, I guess so.”

Mr Gold studied her, eyes searching for something.  She wondered what it was that he could see, and what more he sought.  That voice was there in the back of her mind again, whispering at her, telling her to step closer.  She tried to ignore it, and after a moment he seemed to lose interest and looked away, gesturing to the side.

“I see a lot of boxes,” he said.  “More books, I presume. Are you completely replacing the stock here?”

“A lot of it,” she admitted.  “Not all the boxes are for the library.  Some are my own. Not for public consumption.”

“Indeed?”  He turned back, taking a step closer.  “And what - qualities - must they possess to be part of your private collection?”

His eyes were fixed on hers, but she could feel her pulse throb, as though he could see every inch of her body. As though she was naked before him. It was as unsettling as it was arousing, and she licked her lips, watching his eyes dart to her mouth.  His tongue mirrored hers, and she squeezed her thighs together, telling herself to get a grip.

“It’s - it’s just silly things, really,” she stammered.  “Favourite editions I can’t part with. Gifts from family members…  Nothing that would interest you, I’m sure.”

“Hmm.”  He tilted his head a little, still watching her.  “I have an extensive collection myself. It’s rare to meet another in this town who so enjoys the written word.  Perhaps you’d like to take a look one day.”

“I’d - I’d love to,” she said.  “What sort of books do you like?”

“Oh, all kinds,” he said, in a lazy drawl that made her shiver.  “I have the classics of course, and many works of non-fiction, but I must confess to being partial to pure escapism.”

“Same here,” she said, with a grin.  “For me it’s historical romance. What about you?”

Mr Gold sucked his teeth, and took a step closer.

“Mysteries,” he said.  “Dark fantasy.”

His voice had lowered, the words rumbling out and vibrating through her, and she shivered again.  He was so close that she could smell his cologne, warm and spicy and rich, and she wondered how it would feel to press her mouth to his.  To have those long fingers open up the buttons of her dress and bare her to his sight. His nostrils flared again, and he let out a long, shuddering breath.

“Miss French, would you have dinner with me?” he asked.

She felt her mouth fall open a little, and snapped it shut.

“Wow,” she said.  “You don’t believe in taking things slow, do you?”

Mr Gold glanced down to where his hands were folded over the handle of his cane, then looked up at her, a tiny smile twisting his mouth.

“I see no reason not to ask for what I want,” he said softly.

She eyed him, pursing her lips, and then nodded slowly.

“Okay,” she said.  “When?”

“Tomorrow night,” he said.  “I could pick you up at eight.”

She thought quickly, running through the preparations she needed to make in her head, and the tasks she had to perform, then nodded.

“Why don’t you make it seven-thirty?” she suggested.  “We could have a drink and toast my arrival in town. Kind of a house-warming.”

“Don’t you want to do that with your friends?”

Her breath caught in her throat, and he raised an eyebrow.

“The two young women who checked into the inn,” he prompted.

“How did you know they were with me?” she asked, and he shrugged lazily.

“I hear things.  News travels quickly in this town.”

She was silent for a moment, but eventually returned the shrug.

“They’ll be busy finding a place to rent and checking out local job vacancies,” she said.  “We already agreed we’d have a proper party Friday night, instead. So I guess if you’re serious about taking me out, you can be the first I invite into my new place.”

He smiled slightly, and inclined his head.

“Very well,” he said.  “Seven-thirty it is. I’ll bring a bottle of something.”

“Then - then I guess it’s a date,” she said.  “In which case, you can call me Belle.”

He smiled again, and nodded, stepping past her and heading for the door.  She watched him go, and he turned on his toes just as he reached the exit, reaching for the glasses in his pocket and slipping them back on.

“Until tomorrow,” he said.  “Belle.”

* * *

Gold took his time preparing for his evening with the lovely Miss French.  It had been a long time since he had taken someone to dinner, but it wasn’t as though he was inexperienced in the field.  He ate early, a small, simple meal to give him the energy for whatever the night would hold. He hadn’t quite decided what that would be yet.  A long, hot shower refreshed him, and he dressed carefully, slipping into a silk shirt the colour of fresh blood, his tie a shade or two darker.  The silk felt delicious against his skin, as soft and smooth as he imagined Miss French would feel, and he ran his fingers over it briefly, enjoying the sensual pleasure, feeling the firm curves of his muscles and the lines of his ribs.

The waistcoat went on next, and then the jacket, fitting his slim body to perfection.  A smile curved his lips as he straightened his cuffs. It was a good suit, but there again he liked every piece that hung in his extensive wardrobe.  Despite the expense he had gone to in having the suits and shirts tailored to fit him, he thought of himself as a creature of simple tastes. He liked nice clothes, good food, expensive wine, and - very occasionally - the company of someone that intrigued him.  It was a way of turning his back on his past, of trying to forget how pathetic and powerless he had once been.

He went downstairs and into the kitchen, taking a good bottle of wine from the rack and slipping it into the pocket of his overcoat.  A large bouquet of red and coral-coloured roses sat on the counter, and he picked it up, tucking it in the crook of one arm before taking his cane and heading for the door.  He decided to drive; the sight of him walking the streets with a bunch of flowers would excite too much comment, and considering his plans for the evening, discretion was paramount.  The town was busy, small children dressed as witches, ghosts and devils making their way along the street with plastic candy pails in the shape of pumpkins. Older siblings carried the real thing, candles flickering in the stiff wind, and Gold smirked to himself as he parked up.  He found it amusing that the little town still held to this tradition, but he supposed it was harmless enough.

He locked the car, heading to the side door that led to the apartment above the library.  The doorbell buzzed as he pressed it, and after a moment there was another buzz as the door was unlocked.  He pushed it open, stepping inside, and closed and locked it behind him. The light in the stairwell was dim, his form casting long shadows as he mounted the stairs, and he raised his hand to rap on the apartment door, taking a step back as it opened.

Belle was a little breathless, her cheeks slightly flushed, as though she had been exerting herself.  He could smell the scent of her in the air, the light floral perfume she wore and the faint hint of her own musk beneath it.  It made him want to lick his lips. She was wearing a tight black shirt trimmed with lace, tiny black buttons fastened up to the dark hollow between her breasts.  There was a skirt beneath, a short circle of black velvet swinging around her thighs. Long, shapely legs were displayed in sheer black stockings, her small feet in high-heeled shoes with ankle straps.  Good enough to eat.

“Hey!” she said.  “You’re right on time.  Sorry, I’ve been trying to get the place straight, so I was a little late getting ready.”

“Well, there’s no rush,” he said, and handed her the flowers.  “I thought you might like these.”

“Ooh, they’re beautiful!”

Belle took them, lifting the bouquet to her nose and taking a deep breath.  When she looked up her eyes were sparkling, brilliant blue in the overhead light.  She really was very lovely.

“My father was a florist, you know,” she said.  “I never had the artistic flare, but I inherited his love of flowers.  Thank you.”

She had a sterile bandage wrapped around one hand, wound around her wrist and crossing in between the thumb and forefinger.  Gold gestured to it.

“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked, and she pulled a face.

“Oh.  Had a bit of a disagreement with a box cutter.  Sliced myself open. It’s fine.”

He nodded, and reached into his pocket for the wine.

“I also brought this, if you’d like a glass.”

“A model guest, it seems,” she said, with a grin, and took a step back, holding open the door.  “Come on in.”

He stepped inside, eyes flicking around the apartment’s narrow hallway as she led him to the kitchen.  It smelt of disinfectant and paint and some sort of lemon-scented cleaning product. Candles on the kitchen table were sending out the warm scent of vanilla, and he watched as Belle crossed to the cupboard and took out two wine glasses.  She got out a corkscrew, and he took it from her, opening up the wine and pouring two large measures in streams of rich, dark red. She was filling a vase with water for the flowers, and he watched as she unwrapped the roses and snipped the stems, slipping each one into the vase in turn to create a pretty arrangement.

Belle leaned back against the kitchen table as he handed her one of the glasses before shrugging off his overcoat and laying it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.  The suit beneath was different to the one he had worn the previous day, but again fitted him perfectly. The silk shirt was the same deep red as the wine. As red as blood. She took a drink, the rich, slightly spicy taste of the wine spreading over her tongue and warming her throat as she swallowed.  Her eyes closed briefly, and she let out a contented hum. Gold was watching her over the rim of his glass, his eyes gleaming, and she smiled.

“That’s delicious,” she said.  “I’m glad you offered to bring the wine.  Whatever I served up would be terrible compared to this.”

“Good wine is one of life’s delights, I find,” he said quietly.

“Like an impromptu midweek dinner with a stranger?”

He smiled slightly at that, and took a sip of his own wine.

“I was thinking more of sensual pleasures,” he said.  “Like the taste of good whisky, or the way a sharp frost bites at your throat on a winter’s night.  Like the warm silk of another’s skin against your own.”

She licked her lips, her heart thumping.  A throb had started up in her loins, heavy and urgent, and she tried to ignore it.  She raised an eyebrow, lifting her chin.

“Anything else?”

He took another slow swallow, eyes boring into her.

“Like the taste of a woman’s pleasure,” he said quietly.

She felt her lips part, her breathing quickening, and he watched her, eyes locked on hers.  Her sense of arousal was growing, heightened by the air of danger that hung around him, as though he were a creature of rage and passion when provoked.  She imagined that was true. The tiny lilting voice was back, whispering its soothing words, telling her to trust him. To kiss him. She let the tip of her tongue wet her lips, and set down her glass.

“Is that what you’re expecting from our date?” she asked, and he smiled, his eyes glinting.

“Well, that would be up to you,” he said.  “I’m not about to do anything you don’t want.”

Belle took a step forward, eyes fixed on his.

“And what is it _you_ want, Mr Gold?” she said softly.

He set down his own glass, turning back to face her, and his eyes seemed to have darkened, that dangerous aura pulsing and throbbing, caressing her skin and making her shiver.

“I want to take you to bed,” he said, his voice a low growl.  “I want to take you to bed and peel every stitch of clothing from you.”

He took another step closer, close enough that the scent of him was in her nose, her mouth, her lungs.  She could barely breathe, arousal making her cheeks flush and her heart thump high in her throat, and he leaned in close, his nose almost brushing hers.

“I want to taste _every inch_ of you until you beg me to take you hard,” he whispered.  “I want to fuck you until it _hurts_.”

Belle felt her abdomen clench, a shiver running over her at his words.  She was breathing hard, and he was so close, and she wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel his body against hers.  Wanted him to take her to bed and make her scream with pleasure. She tilted her head, her lips just brushing against his, soft at first, then harder.  His lips were cool, and he let out a low groan, one hand reaching up to cup her cheek as his tongue pushed into her mouth. There was a rattle of wood against wood as he let the cane rest against one of the kitchen chairs.  Belle rose up on her toes with a moan, closing her eyes, and felt his other hand go around her waist and pull her close against him.

She could feel that he was already hard, pressing against her belly in a rigid line, and it made desire surge through her.  Her hands stroked up his back, the kiss growing harder, and suddenly he pulled his mouth from hers and kissed down her throat, his tongue finding the throb of her pulse.  It swirled in a circle, soft and wet against her skin, and she moaned at the feel of it, shivers rippling through her. His fingers pushed into her hair, tracing the nape of her neck, and she gasped, letting her head roll back.

Gold was revelling in the taste of her, in having her in his arms and responding to his touch.  The taste of her skin was delightful, and he could sense her arousal, rising up within her. He wanted to slide a hand between her legs and touch her, to slip his fingers inside her.  To trace a path with his tongue down to where she was hot and wet and sweet. His lips trailed up to her ear, brushing against the lobe.

“I want to touch you, Belle,” he whispered.  “Will you let me touch you?”

She nodded urgently, and he smiled, straightening up and putting his hands on her waist.  He turned her, lifting her up onto the table, and Belle watched with wide eyes as he put his hands on her knees, slowly pushing her thighs apart.  He slid his palms up her legs, pushing the skirt up to her waist and revealing the lace tops of her stockings below the creamy-white skin of her upper thighs.  His eyes flicked up to meet hers, and she was staring at him, her lips full and dark from the pressure of his, her chest heaving. He reached up to the buttons of her shirt, plucking them open to expose the swell of her breasts, pushed high in a black lace bra before his hands dropped to her thighs once more.

His fingers crept higher, sliding up beneath the black velvet skirt and brushing the front of her underwear, feeling the heat of her through the thin lace.  Belle sucked in a breath, watching him, and he let the finger slide to the side, tracing up and down the edge before working its way underneath. He let out a low, rumbling groan as wetness coated his finger, and Belle moaned in response.  The finger swept upwards through her soft folds, tracing a circle around the hardened nub of her clit. Belle gasped, hands splayed on the table top, and he rubbed at her with slow, even strokes.

“You feel delicious, Belle,” he whispered.  “So soft and wet.”

The tip of his finger slipped inside her, and he pushed deep, up to the knuckle, making her moan.  His thumb grazed her clit, circling and stroking, and he could feel her muscles tensing, her flesh gripping him.  He thrust in and out, fingers slippery-wet with her juices, and she was moaning and writhing and pushing against his hand.  He drew his tongue up her throat, and Belle whimpered a little as she neared her peak.

“That’s it,” he whispered.  “Come for me, Belle. Let me taste you on my fingers.  Let me suck the sweetness from you and drink it down!”

She came with a cry, clinging to his shoulders, and he thrust and stroked, feeling her fluids coat his fingers and run down into his palm.  He growled in pleasure, drawing them out and licking her cum from them, and Belle watched him with heavy eyes, her cheeks flushed and chest heaving.  The taste of her was intoxicating, and he wanted more, so he reached between her legs again, ripping open her panties with a harsh sound of tearing lace before bending to put his mouth to her.  Belle lay back on the table with a thump, moaning at the first swipe of his tongue, and Gold buried his face in her, tongue swirling over her sensitive flesh, licking up the salty-sweet taste of her pleasure.

His hands were on her thighs, pushing them apart to give him more access to her, and a shudder went through him as her fingers began to push through his hair, twisting as his tongue circled her clit.  She slipped her feet over his shoulders, the heels of her shoes scraping him through the suit, and her inner thighs tensed beneath his hands as his tongue swept over her in a steady rhythm. Belle arched her back with a moan, fingers tightening in his hair and causing delicious pinpricks of pain all over his scalp.  He could hear her ragged breathing, could sense that she was close, and he quickened his pace a little, sliding one hand up to let a finger push back inside her. Belle cried out as she came, body jerking on the table, feet drumming on his back, and his finger slipped from her. He licked at her soft flesh, pushing his tongue up inside her, letting out a low, guttural groan as her cum flooded over him.

He slowed the pace of his tongue, licking up every drop of her bliss, and pushed back from her a little, straightening up.  Belle was panting as she tried to catch her breath, a flush in her cheeks and chest and her lips parted and glistening. Her eyelids fluttered and opened, and she looked up at him.

“Bedroom?” she murmured.

Smirking to himself, he offered her a hand, and she took it, letting him pull her upright.  She slipped from the table and made her way out of the kitchen on wobbly legs.

“This - this way,” she said.

He grasped his cane and watched her go, wiping the last of her fluids from his chin with a thumb and sucking it clean before following her down the corridor and into the bedroom.  He blinked in surprise. The room was empty except for the bed, a wrought-iron frame made up with white sheets and pillows and a deep purple throw covering it. Lit candles were bunched together in the corners, sending a pleasant, warm light around the room and casting deep shadows.  The walls were painted a matt white, newspaper covering the floor and the scent of fresh paint in the air.

“Sorry about the mess,” said Belle, sitting on her heels and rummaging in a bag.  “When I first came in here it looked like someone had broken in and scrawled bloody pentagrams on the walls and stuff.  Kids, I assumed. I had to repaint, so it’s kind of a work in progress.”

He nodded slowly.

“Storybrooke has a number of teenagers whose interest in the occult is rekindled every Halloween,” he remarked.  “I trust they didn’t damage anything.”

“Nothing I couldn’t hide,” she said cheerfully.  “I bought this chalk paint, which seems to work okay.  I’ll put another coat on the walls tomorrow.”

She straightened up, holding a box of condoms, and he nodded.  Not that they were necessary for him, but no doubt it would make her feel safer.  She smiled, opening up the box and throwing a couple onto the bed before stepping towards him and raising her chin.

“Now,” she said.  “I seem to be half-naked and you are very much fully-clothed.  Doesn’t seem fair.”

He grinned.

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” he said softly, and flicked at the bottom of her shirt with one finger.  “Take off the rest.”

Her eyes widened, and he crossed to the bed and sat down, the cane resting between his knees with his hands folded over the top.  There was a strange energy in the room, something crawling up his back to the nape of his neck and whispering in his ear. _No doubt it’s the magical symbols she found on the walls_ , he thought dryly.   _Wouldn't surprise me if one of those young idiots got themselves in trouble without realising it._

Belle shrugged off the shirt, biting her lip, her cheeks a little flushed.  He doubted she was an innocent, but she was still young, and her momentary self-consciousness was adorable.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly.  “Take off the bra.”

Still blushing, she reached behind, breasts pushing forward as she unhooked the bra and let it fall, and he growled in appreciation. _Delicious._

“Now the skirt.”

She unzipped the black velvet skirt, letting it fall.  The underwear had already been discarded, thrown ruined onto the floor of the kitchen, and she was naked but for stockings and shoes, shivering a little in the cool of the room.  He lifted a finger, crooking it.

“Come to me.”

She stepped forward, heels clicking on the floor, and he reached out to run his hands over her naked hips.   _Yes.  She feels like silk.  Perfect._

Belle reached for his tie, sucking in a breath as he began to kiss her, his mouth trailing over her breasts before fastening over a nipple.  She glanced to the side, keeping the paint bucket and its brushes in sight. It wouldn’t do to fall over the thing. She managed to get his tie unfastened, drawing the length of silk from around his neck and tossing it onto the bed.  Her fingers slipped to the buttons of his waistcoat, and she let out a moan as he sucked at her, his tongue swirling over her nipple. Gold’s hands ran down over her rear, pulling her closer, and she was finding it hard to concentrate.  She pulled back, her breathing unsteady.

“I can’t get you naked if you keep distracting me,” she said, a little breathlessly, and he grinned and patted her rump.

“On the bed, then.”

She climbed on, still wearing the shoes, and he removed his waistcoat, taking off the gold cufflinks he wore and unbuttoning the shirt.  She watched as he undressed, her eyes running over him curiously, and he wondered what she was thinking. The tip of her pink tongue swept over her lips, and he felt a surge of desire for her, to bear her down on the bed and sink into her.  To make her scream with pleasure. It was exhilarating, and he would be sorry when it was over, but he told himself that this needn’t be their only night together. He knew how to leave her wanting more, after all.

He removed his shoes and socks, and then the pants, pushing them down with his underwear in one movement.  Belle’s eyes widened, her brows shooting upwards, and he climbed onto the bed with her, kneeling at her feet.

“On your knees,” he said quietly.

She turned over, getting on hands and knees, her beautiful rear end in front of him.  He ran a hand up her thigh and between her legs, and Belle moaned as he touched her, fingers sliding through wet flesh.  Two fingers pushed deep, and she gasped, pushing back onto him as they thrust inside her. His thumb teased her back entrance, and she let out tiny moans as he pushed at her, his other hand reaching over her hip to rub at her clit.  Belle was rocking back and forth on her knees, her body shaking, and he shifted closer on his knees as he worked her, his cock pressed against her buttocks, sensations coursing through him. He wanted to push deep inside her, to fill her, to bury himself in her and fuck her hard and pour out what remained of his soul.  If indeed he had one.

Belle was lost in the sensations, pleasure spreading through her body in waves as his fingers thrust and rubbed and stroked.  Sweat was forming on her upper lip, and she moaned as she felt her climax approach, rising up through her and making hr skin tingle.  She broke with a high-pitched cry, pushing back against him as his fingers penetrated her, sinking into her knuckle-deep. Bright lights burst in her head, and she spasmed, rocking back and forth and letting the sensations pour through her.  He was stroking her more gently, fingers sliding slowly in and out, and she wanted more. She wanted him inside her.

His fingers slipped out of her, coming to rest on her hips, and she tried to steady her breathing, reaching for one of the condoms and opening it up before turning onto her back and sitting up.  His cock was jutting outwards, hard and thick, and she traced the shape of his balls with a finger before drawing it along his length and circling the head. He let out a low growl of pleasure, and she rolled on the condom, lying back and and opening her legs wide, her knees bent.  He fell forward onto the palms of his hands, walking up either side of her body until he was gazing down on her, and she felt him push up against her, hard against soft, teasing her.

Belle shifted her hips a little, rubbing against the head of his cock, and he groaned, his jaw tightening as though he was trying to control himself.  She grinned to herself, rubbing against him some more, and he reached between them to guide himself into her, thrusting deep in one swift movement. Belle threw her head back with a moan, back arching as she drew up her knees, and she wrapped her legs around him, scraping the heels down his back.  Gold growled in response, thrusting into her, his cock filling her, and she closed her eyes, concentrating on how good it felt, how the heat and wetness between them created the most wonderful friction.

Her hands slid around his back, where she could feel the way his muscles moved beneath his skin, the lean, wiry strength of him.  He bent to kiss her neck, lips sucking on her throat and making her shiver, tongue tasting the perspiration on her skin as he thrust inside her.  He was grinding against her, his hips moving in slow circles. It was making her see stars, her body humming with the feel of him, as though sparks were dancing over her skin, and she moaned and pushed up against him as her fingernails dug into the groove of his spine.

He had quickened his pace a little, and she was almost there, bliss rising up through her once more, a blush flooding into her cheeks.  He swept his tongue over the place where her pulse throbbed, sucking at her neck almost painfully, and she came with a shout, clawing at his shoulders, her shoes digging into his buttocks and spurring him on.  She felt him come too, a rapid pulsing deep inside her and a low groan vibrating through her body. The sensations were incredible, and she bucked her hips, trying to pull every drop from him. Gold pushed up onto his hands, still circling his hips as he ground against her.  He didn’t seem to be out of breath at all, and she wondered how his stamina levels were. Decidedly higher than hers, it seemed.

Gold watched as she collapsed back onto the bed and ran her hands over her face, breathing hard.  He was deep inside her, his cock still pulsing gently, trying to pour as much of himself into her as it could.  Soft, hot flesh was clamped around him, and it felt incredible, but he pushed up on his palms, ready to move out of her. Belle let her hands drop and met his eyes, a lazy grin spreading across her face.

“Wow,” she remarked.

“Indeed.”

He shifted position, reaching between them to grasp the base of the condom before slowly pulling out of her and rolling onto his back.  Belle sat up, holding out her hand.

“Here, let me deal with that.”

He was about to say that he’d do it himself, but she was smiling at him, and his body was loose and contented, so he slipped off the condom and let her take it, a sticky ball of fluid-filled latex in the palm of her hands.  She got out of bed, grabbing a bathrobe and tugging it on, and he let his head roll back against the pillows, listening with half an ear as she padded around the room. There was a rustle of newspaper, as though she was gathering it up.  Perhaps she wanted the place to look a little nicer. He certainly wasn’t averse to spending longer in bed, if she wanted to. It had been a long time since he had indulged himself, and he intended to make the most of it.  All night would be ideal, even if it would leave her little good for anything else the next day.

“Do you want your wine?” she asked.

“Please.”

He folded his arms behind his head contentedly and gazed up at the ceiling, listening as she wandered from here to there.  The smell of paint was stronger, and his brow crinkled in puzzlement. That feeling was there again, but more intense: a strange energy, raising the hair on the back of his neck and making his skin prickle.  Slowly, he pushed himself up on his elbows, and Belle straightened up from where she had been crouched on the floor, flicking back her hair as she set aside a small pot of what looked like the same white paint she had used on the walls.  His nostrils flared. There was something not quite right about it. A hint of - blood?  Belle turned to him with a smile.

“Well, that was certainly not what I expected when I invited you in,” she said.  “I mean I hoped we’d end up in bed, but I certainly didn’t think you’d be as - stimulating - as you were.  Quite an eye-opener, I assure you. I guess experience counts for a lot.”

“If you come back to bed I’m more than happy to repeat the performance,” he said quietly, and she smiled.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” she said.  “Not that it wasn’t exhilarating, but I’m not sure I could match your stamina. Probably because I’m not a vampire.”

He froze, and silence filled the air, heavy and ominous, as though a storm approached.  Gold pushed up on his hands, eyes flicking around the room, alert to any changes she had made.  She had gathered up the newspaper, tossing it into a rough pile behind her, and now he could see what it had been covering.  The wooden floor around the bed had been painted with two concentric circles in white chalk paint, runes and symbols in between them in looping swirls and jagged lines.   _A spell?  She’s trying to use a fucking spell on me?_

Snarling, he jumped out of bed and hurled himself towards her, bouncing backwards as he hit an invisible barrier that traced the path of the inner circle.  He flattened his palms against it, running them over what felt like a curved wall of glass, and Belle smiled. He thought there was a look of relief on her face.  Perhaps she hadn’t expected this - whatever she had done - to work. Strange that he had only sensed a whiff of the magic. The spell used must be very old. He slid his hands as high as he could reach, but there was no break in the barrier.  Punching it made his knuckles hurt, and he rubbed them, scowling at her.

“You won’t get out,” she said, in a conversational tone, and gestured at the floor.  “Containment spell. Used my own blood to make it, and thanks to that awesome performance just now, you gave me the final ingredient I needed all neatly packaged up in that condom.”

She smiled at him proudly, looking immensely pleased with herself.

“It’s fortunate that you believe in practising safe sex,” she added.  “I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere for the moment.”

He glowered at her.   _Using semen for the binding along with the blood.  A very ancient spell, that one. How the hell did she know it?_

“You’re a - a _witch_?” he growled, and she pursed her lips.

“No,” she said.  “I’m a librarian.  I read a lot. It’s just that ever since I was a girl, my interests have tended to the - darker - things in life.  Like you. So I learned how to deal with them.”

_So.  A would-be vampire slayer.  We’ll see about that._

“Interesting methods you use,” he said.  “You knew what I was, and yet you chose to have sex with me.  Do you have a death wish?”

She chuckled, eyes sparkling.

“Oh, I took precautions,” she said.  “If you look under the bed you’ll see a powerful amulet.  I wouldn’t touch it, if I were you, but I have a feeling you’ll know what it is.  I knew you couldn’t harm me while I was within its circle of protection. You'll be pleased to know it covers the whole apartment.  And the library. You can’t harm me here.”

He let his lips draw up over his teeth, baring them to her for the first time.

“You have to leave the place at some point,” he said softly, and she swallowed, but raised her chin.

“Well, that’s rather a moot point, since you’re trapped here until I say otherwise,” she said, her voice shaking only a little.  “Like I said, I took precautions to protect myself.”

Intrigued, he drew back from the barrier and dropped onto his heels, peering beneath the bed.  Sure enough, a circle of iron sat there, silk ribbon threaded around it. A strong scent of sage hung around it, and he smirked, reaching for it.

“I said don’t touch it!”

He straightened up, the amulet dangling from one finger, grinning at her shocked expression.

“You think this would work on me?” he sneered.  “A pathetic shield, and one which would keep you safe from only the weakest and most inexperienced.”

Her lips had parted in shock, her eyes wide.

“But - but it works,” she stammered.  “I - I know it works, I’ve used it!”

“It’s barely more use than a circle of salt,” he drawled, and tossed the amulet aside before turning back to face her.  “You may as well have tried a crucifix. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had the pleasure of tearing those away from the ones I hunt.”

Belle’s mouth was still open, and he could sense her heart beating faster, uncertainty and fear rising within her.  That was delicious too, and he inhaled deeply, enjoying the way her scent had changed.

“Perhaps you’ve dealt with newborn vampires before, Miss French, but know this,” he said.  “I am like nothing you have ever encountered.”

She seemed to rally, taking a deep breath and meeting his eyes.

“I’m counting on that.”

Gold smiled without humour, running his fingers over the invisible barrier.

“So you’ve come here to kill me?” he rasped.  “You and your two girlfriends?  I’m sure you make quite the delectable team, but you won’t be the first.  Or the last.  You do realise you’ll have to break this circle to do it, correct?”

“Yes, I expect so,” she said.  “No doubt that’s what you’re waiting for, hmm?”

He showed his teeth again, leaning forward, fingers splayed against the barrier between them.

“Just one little tear in this wall, dearie,” he whispered, “and I’ll be on you faster than you can bat those pretty long lashes of yours.  You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m here,” she said briskly.  “I’m sure there’s so much you can tell me, and I want to know _everything_!”

He blinked, momentarily thrown by her comment.

“What?”

“I’ve been reading up on your Storybrooke for many years,” she went on.  “Fascinating little town. I’ve read rumours of werewolves and witches and demons with human faces rubbing shoulders with regular humans at cookouts and yard sales.  And I’ve read about a vampire so old that the thirst is nothing more than a distraction to him.”

Gold smiled thinly.

“And you think that’s me, do you?” he said, with a dark chuckle.  “You think I’ve lost my - appetites?”

He didn’t miss the way her eyes flicked to his groin and back up to his face.

“I think that the way you handled that amulet suggests you could easily have killed me,” she said.  “You chose to take me to bed instead. Interesting.”

Gold let one shoulder rise and fall, a languid shrug, and her eyes flicked over him again.

“One desire is much like another,” he said.  “Just because I wanted to fuck you this time doesn’t mean I won’t tear your throat out next time.”

“Hmm.”  Belle pursed her lips.  “I have a feeling it’s more complicated than that.  I don’t doubt you can kill. I just doubt you make a habit of it.”

“Well, any newborn young whelp can kill,” he scoffed.  “For some it becomes an obsession. All-consuming. They tend not to last long.  The key to longevity, I’ve found, is assimilation.”

“In Storybrooke?” she said.  “Does that mean the townsfolk are safe from you?”

Gold let out a low sigh, rolling his eyes.

“The tiresome thing about living in a society,” he said, “even one so strange as Storybrooke, is that one must become part of it.  Randomly killing the townsfolk tends to make one _persona non grata_.”

“You’re worried the others would be at your door with torches and pitchforks if you give your true nature free rein?” she asked, and he grinned.

“Oh, this is my true nature, dearie,” he whispered.  “As I said, anyone can kill. But to taste, and not to harm.”  He held up finger and thumb, a tiny space between them. “To take _just enough_ to satisfy yourself, and leave the victim craving for your touch?  That is pure artistry. It takes skill, and self-control.”

“And yet you didn’t taste me,” she said, looking self-satisfied.  “Not even the tiniest bite.”

His smile grew.

“Well, as I said,” he purred.  “At the time all my hunger was for something else.  I have many appetites that need to be satisfied. Your blood isn’t the only thing I want to swallow down.”

A blush rose in her cheeks, and he grinned.  She ran a hand through her hair, as though she was trying to settle herself.

“Be that as it may,” she said.  “You could have killed me, and yet you didn’t.  Perhaps you’re tired of the darkness.”

He inhaled deeply, her scent filtering in through the barrier and still warm in the sheets behind him.

“Open the circle,” he said softly.  “Open the circle, and I’ll show you exactly how toothless I am.”

“I don’t think you’re toothless, Mr Gold,” she said.  “But I _do_ think you’re fascinating.  I want information from you, that’s all.  I want _knowledge_.”

Gold raised an eyebrow.

“What is it you want to know?”

Belle clasped her hands together, eyes gleaming.

“From what I can tell, you’re hundreds of years old!” she said eagerly.  “You must have seen _so much_ that is lost to history.  You must know so much of other creatures, of other dark legends.  Even of magic.”

“Really not looking to take on an apprentice,” he said dryly.  “Especially one that imprisons me.”

“Oh, I’ll let you out of there,” she said impatiently.  “I didn’t come here to kill you, that would be such a waste of what you have to offer.  That’s what I want from you.”

“And you think I won’t kill you the moment you let me go?”

She smiled at that.

“No,” she said.  “I don’t think you will.”

“And why’s that?”

She stepped closer, until she was almost touching the barrier, tilting her head so that her neck was exposed.  It was pale and perfect, the delicious scent coming from her almost overwhelming, and he watched the heavy throb of her pulse, hearing the beat of it as the blood flowed through her.  The sensations went straight to his groin, and he began to harden, his mouth watering at the thought of tasting her, of having her melt in his arms. Of giving her pleasure until she begged him to stop.

“I think,” she said quietly.  “That I have something you want, Mr Gold.  I might be persuaded to share a little with you.  To give you a taste in return for your cooperation with my research.”

“When I see something I want, I take it,” he growled

Belle straightened up, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“And miss out on all that artistry you talked about?” she teased.  “You’d pass up an opportunity to hone your craft? To show me how a true demon behaves?  Shame on you.”

She was amusing, certainly.  And as clever as she was delicious.  It might be interesting to spar with her some more.  To taste her delights. He licked his lips, and her smile grew.

“What do you say?” she whispered.  “Do we have a deal?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, I know I wasn't gonna continue this but here we are. Story of my fucking life. I couldn't stop thinking about vampire!Gold and who else might be in Storybrooke and so this happened. I guess this fic is now a WIP. FML.

Gold watched Belle silently for a moment, fingertips tapping against the barrier between them.  Her throat was still exposed, soft white skin marked red in patches from the pressure of his mouth, inviting him to take her in his arms and bite down.  The thought of it made him harden further, his mouth watering, and he tamped down the desire that flared to life inside him. Belle was breathing heavily, her chest heaving, as though she was afraid.  Or aroused. It was exhilarating, but giving in to his desires was exactly how he had ended up trapped in a circle of her casting, so he simply stared at her, unblinking. The loud buzz of her phone broke the tense silence between them, and he pushed back from the edge of the circle a little as Belle hissed in frustration and stepped away, reaching for her bag.  She pulled out the phone as it buzzed urgently, and rolled her eyes as she answered.

“Hey,” she said.  “It worked.”

The person on the other end said something that Gold couldn’t make out, and Belle sighed.

“I’m _fine_ ,” she said insistently.  “The circle’s unbroken, it’s all under control.”

_Oh, is it indeed?_

“Okay, but keep your cool,” she said then.  “See you in five.”

She flicked at the phone with her thumb, ending the call, and looked across at him with those wide blue eyes.

“Mulan and Aurora are coming over,” she said.  “You might want to get dressed.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable, thank you.”

She stared at him for a moment, then sighed heavily and crossed to where she had dropped her clothes.  She pulled the skirt up over her hips beneath the bathrobe, and then turned her back to him as she put on the bra.

“Modesty at this late hour?” he drawled.  “I don’t know why you’re bothering. I’ve already seen everything.  I even know how you taste, Miss French.”

Belle ignored him, fastening the bra and tugging on the shirt.  He regretted not ripping it from her, ruining it as he had her underwear.  He regretted being so gentle. The marks his mouth had left on her would soon fade, and he wished he had taken the opportunity to taste her blood, to bite down into her soft flesh and drink down her sweetness.  She turned back to him as she fastened the last of the buttons, and took a deep breath.

“You haven’t given me an answer,” she said.  “Do we have a deal or not? Information, in return for my blood.”

Gold looked her over, raising an eyebrow.

“What exactly are you proposing?” he asked.  “You’re surely not offering yourself to me to feed on.  Even you wouldn’t be that reckless. Unless you really _do_ have a death wish.”

Belle swallowed and took a step back, meeting his eyes.

“Of course not,” she said.  “Aurora’s a nurse. She’s more than capable of drawing a little blood from me in nice, safe, clinical conditions.”

Gold let out a low chuckle.

“Oh, nice, safe and clinical is how I like to take all my meals,” he said sarcastically.  “Please. Offer me something I might actually be interested in.”

Belle blushed a little, raising her chin.

“I - thought your kind needed blood to live,” she said stiffly.  “I was just—”

“My _kind_?”  He curled his lip.  “A little bigoted, aren’t we?”

Her blush deepened.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” she protested.  “I - I just meant that I’ve read a lot, and - and I have my theories, and the encounters I’ve had with other vampires have supported most of my findings, that’s all!”

Gold leaned forward again, hands splayed against the barrier, and gave her his most predatory smile.

“What’s the matter?” he said softly.  “Am I not doing what your textbooks promised?”

“My _textbooks_ , as you call them, offer little in the way of guidance,” she said stiffly.  “Other than to warn me to stay away from you.”

“And yet,” he whispered.  “Here you are. Quite the curious little thing, aren’t you?”

Belle sighed, putting her hands on her hips, and opened her mouth just as the doorbell buzzed.  She glanced towards the hallway, and shot him a look.

“Get dressed,” she said bluntly, and went out.

Gold started to feel his way around the circle, trying in vain to find a chink, a gap.  The candles guttered in the corners of the room, their light flickering as a draught from the open door kissed his naked skin.  He ignored it, running his hands over the flat, hard edge of the inner circle. The sound of feet on the stairs and whispered conversation outside in the corridor made him stop, and he braced his hands against the barrier, facing the door.  Belle’s friends pushed into the room, the dark-haired Mulan dressed in jeans and boots and a heavy black coat, her hand on one hip as though the coat concealed a weapon. She led in a young woman with pale skin and light brown hair, dressed in a long, lavender-coloured dress beneath a lilac shirt and brown fitted jacket.  She clung to Mulan’s arm and squeaked in surprise as she took in the sight of him.

“There,” said Belle, a little breathlessly from behind them.  “Told you.”

“You missed out the part where he was naked,” said Mulan flatly.

“I - I told him to get dressed,” muttered Belle, blushing again.

Gold smiled, stretching languidly with his arms behind his head.  Mulan looked unimpressed, and the other woman - Aurora? - closed her eyes.  Belle’s blush deepened.

“Ashamed of me, Miss French?” he asked lazily.  “When I have the scent of your pleasure all over my fingers?  I’m disappointed.”

He drew the first two fingers of his hand across his nose, inhaling deeply, and Belle closed her eyes, looking mortified.  Mulan rounded on her.

“You _slept_ with him?”

“I - well, I thought it would be the easiest way to get him inside the circle,” said Belle lamely.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“Hey, we agreed that this was gonna be the spell we used!” protested Belle.  “And - and it worked! The circle worked!”

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna put your _bed_ in the middle of it,” said Mulan.  “You were planning on revealing this genius part of the plan when, exactly?”

Gold tutted, shaking his head.

“Don’t want your friends knowing about your monster kink?” he said snidely.  “I think it’s a little late for that, don’t you?”

He raised an eyebrow at Mulan, letting a sly grin tug his mouth up at one corner.

“She likes it rough, by the way,” he added.

“Shut up!” snapped Belle and Mulan as one, and he whistled.

“Presumably we can’t leave him in there forever,” said Aurora, keeping her eyes averted from his nakedness. “So - what do we do?”

“The amulet should keep us safe,” said Mulan, and Belle winced.

“Doesn’t work,” she said gloomily, and the other two stared at her.

“It doesn’t _work_?” repeated Mulan.  “But - but it’s worked before!”

“Screw vampires a lot, do you?” enquired Gold.  “I wasn’t wrong about the monster kink.”

“Shut _up_!”

They all glared at him, and he shook his head sadly.

“Used for sexual gratification and cast aside,” he sighed.  “I’m hurt.”

“You will be if you don’t stop talking,” said Mulan curtly.  “Belle, if the amulet doesn’t work, we can’t let him out of there.  He’ll kill us.”

“I don’t think so,” said Belle.  “I think I can make a deal with him.”

“You can’t make deals with these creatures!”

“Well, I see the bigotry runs deep in this group,” remarked Gold.  “I was as human as each of you, once.”

“But no longer,” said Mulan, stepping closer.  “I’m guessing that if you got out of there you’d hunt us down and drain us dry, right?”

Gold smiled, hunching his shoulders a little as he leaned forward.

“You seem a little too bitter for my tastes, dear,” he said snidely.  “What’s the matter? Lose someone you love?”

Mulan’s eyes widened, her face a mask of fury, and she lunged towards him, almost reaching him before Belle and Aurora could grasp her shoulders and drag her back from the edge of the circle.  Gold chuckled, leaning against the barrier and letting his teeth show.

“See, that impulsiveness is just what I need,” he purred.  “It’s what I admire most about the lovely Miss French, if for entirely different reasons...”

“I swear by all the _gods_ —” spat Mulan, and he waggled his eyebrows.

“Well, now that I’ve sated one desire, perhaps you’ll be good enough to help me with another,” he said lightly. “You have a lot of anger there. Feel free to throw yourself in my direction again, it’s been too long since I had a decent meal.  Would hate to lose my edge.”

She glared at him, but Aurora stroked her hair, whispering something in her ear, and she took a deep breath, calming herself.  Gold let his smile widen.

“Belle,” said Mulan, her voice shaking a little.  “Is there anything else you can use to subdue this - creature?”

“I may have something in the library,” said Belle, not taking her eyes from his.  “I’m not sure. I could use some help going through the boxes.”

“I’ll go with you,” offered Aurora, and Belle shook her head.

“I think it would be best if Mulan gets out of here for five minutes,” she said.  “Can you stay and keep an eye on him? You’re perfectly safe, he can’t get out.”

“O-okay,” said Aurora, sounding unsure of herself.

“Yell if he so much as looks at you the wrong way,” added Mulan.

Belle kept her hand on Mulan’s arm, gently tugging her out of the room.  The last thing she saw before the doorway hid her view were Gold’s eyes, boring menacingly into her own.  It made her shiver, and it was a relief to be out of his line of sight. She headed down the stairs in silence, opening up the door to the library and closing it after them.  Mulan turned to face her, ponytail swishing and her boots echoing on the wooden floor, her mouth set in a hard line.

“So,” she said.  “Are you gonna explain to me why you decided to change the plan?”

Belle shifted uncomfortably, and Mulan threw up her hands.

“I thought we were agreed!” she said.  “We had the spell, we had the ingredients, the only thing that was missing was his saliva, which you were _supposed_ to get from having a drink with him.  Which I’ll remind you was _your_ idea.   _Against_ my better judgement.”

“I know,” sighed Belle, “but—”

“—and instead you put yourself at risk by _sleeping_ with him?” went on Mulan.  “What the hell were you _thinking_?”

“I just - I’d read that semen was far more potent than saliva, that’s all.”

“Yes, and way more difficult to get your hands on!”

“Not as it turned out,” said Belle, a little sulkily, and Mulan rolled her eyes.

“He could have killed you at any moment!” she snapped.  “Don’t ever put yourself in that kind of danger again! We should have done things my way and drugged him.”

“He’s too clever to fall for that,” said Belle obstinately.  “And besides, I never felt comfortable with that idea. Honestly, I wish we’d never tried to trick him into giving us the info.  I’m pretty sure I could have gotten him to cooperate without the need for - for magical coercion.”

“What, so he can play with his prey a little before he eats it?” said Mulan sarcastically.  “You really are way too impulsive for your own good, you know. You really think this research is worth your _life_?”

“I had the protection amulet!”

“Which didn’t _work_!”

“I didn’t know that!” protested Belle.  “And - and besides, even if it didn’t work, he didn’t hurt me!  I don’t think he even thought about it.”

“Well, he’s definitely thinking about it now,” said Mulan dryly.  “So how about we look for something to keep us safe. What do you have?”

Belle sighed, running a hand through her hair, and opened up one of the boxes of books.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted.  “I was thinking maybe something to put on him.  A bit like the amulet, if we can find something to use, and if we could find the right spell to keep him - uh - docile, for want of a better word.”

“Something a bit like the amulet,” mused Mulan.  “I think Aurora has a silver cuff we could use. Might be a good conduit for any spell you two can put together.  If we can get it on him and stop him taking it off, of course.”

“That might be just the thing,” said Belle vaguely, picking out books.  “And I think he might agree to wear it if we let him out of the circle, but I don’t think we’ll be able to get the spell done tonight.  I’m probably gonna need to source some ingredients.”

“Well, it’s not like he’s going anywhere,” said Mulan bluntly.  “Why don’t you crash in our room at Granny’s? You know, since your own bed has an angry naked vampire in it.”

Belle shot her a look, but then nodded.  She handed over the books, bending to pick up another, and Mulan nudged her.

“So,” she said.  “Purely in the interests of science, of course.  What was he like?”

Belle smirked.

“Pretty incredible, actually,” she said.  “Kind of - dominant.”

“I’m shocked,” said Mulan dryly.

“I actually didn’t mind,” said Belle, with a grin.  “It was pretty amazing to just let go and have fun.”

“Well, I’d hate to think you put your life on the line and then had to _take charge_ with the deadly creature you chose to bang…”

Belle gave her a flat look.

“You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I don’t care, it was awesome,” she said.  “Definitely no problem with stamina.”

Mulan shrugged.

“Stamina’s okay, but at least tell me he knew what to do with the time he took,” she said.  “I admit to not exactly being an expert on dicks, but from what I could see he was - uh - well-proportioned.”

“Oh, yes,” said Belle, with a grin.  “And knows what to do with the tools he has, believe me.  I came a _lot_.”

“Huh.”  Mulan pursed her lips.  “I guess if guys have hundreds of years to practice, they have to get it right eventually.  Guess maybe I can understand your new-found interest in monster sex.”

Belle swatted her arm.

“It’s not an _interest_ , it was - it was necessary for the spell,” she said stiffly.  “Besides, he’s not a monster.”

Mulan sighed, and fixed her with a glare.

“Belle,” she said firmly.  “He’s a killer. He’s killed hundreds, if not thousands.  No matter how good he is in bed, he could turn on you at any moment.  Never forget that, okay?”

* * *

Gold had watched as Belle and Mulan backed out of the room, and had then closed his eyes for a moment, drawing the rage and darkness deep within and letting the more dangerous part of himself out to play.  He knew all too well that part of him was soothing, fascinating, almost hypnotic to those he chose to use it on, and he smiled as he felt it ripple out from him to wrap around Aurora. He opened his eyes, and she was standing with her mouth open, confusion wrinkling her brow.  No doubt her mind was telling her to trust him. He had been surprised that Belle had seemed to ignore the voice in her head when the two of them had been alone in the library. Surprised enough to want to try to reach her again. Being naked and trapped was really his own fault for being far too curious, but he had been in worse situations than this before, and there was always a way out.  He smiled at Aurora, his eyes soft as they met hers.

“You don’t have to worry, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.  “Your girlfriend isn’t wrong to be wary of me, in the circumstances, but I mean you no harm.”

She eyed him, uncertainty warring with curiosity, and Gold pressed a hand to his heart.

“Would it make you feel more comfortable if I was dressed?” he asked.

She nodded, and he sank down onto his heels, reaching out to grasp the leg of his pants and pull them towards him.  Aurora cast her eyes down as he drew on the underwear, followed by the pants, tugging them up over his hips and fastening the zipper.

“I’ll need you to pass my shirt,” he said gently.

She looked at him sharply, and he gestured to the pile of silk that sat just outside the edge of the circle.  She stepped closer, not taking her eyes off him as she bent down to pick it up, and tossed it to him. Gold snagged it out of the air, pulling on the shirt, his hands whispering through the sleeves.  He buttoned it, leaving the top three undone and tucking the shirt into his pants as he licked his lips. He picked up his waistcoat, shrugging it on and buttoning it, and plucked his gold cufflinks from his pocket.  Aurora was watching him, and he kept his eyes on hers as fastened his cuffs.

“You remind me of someone I used to know,” he said.  “Pale skin and perfect lips. She rode side-saddle in velvet skirts and long gloves.  Beautiful.”

“How - how long ago?” she asked.

“Oh, a long time,” he sighed.  “I can’t recall. The decades flow into one another.  And the centuries. Time is a strange and brutal thing when you stand outside it.”

Aurora’s eyes widened with interest, and his smile grew.

“I’d appreciate it if you could bring my wine,” he added, nodding towards the door.  “I believe it’s in the kitchen.”

She walked out silently, and he let his smile grow a little.   _Whatever tricks they might have to ensnare me, I can beat them.  It’s not over, Miss French. Not by a long way._

Aurora returned with a glass of wine in her hand, and stopped two paces back from the edge of the circle.  Gold gave her an encouraging smile.

“Yes, that’s the one,” he said gently.  “I’d prefer it if you handed it to me, though, rather than threw it.  Is that alright?”

She opened and closed her mouth, looking uncertain.  Her pulse had quickened, and he could see the beat of it beneath the pale skin of her throat, the throb of blood that called to him.  Strange that the desire to feed again was so strong, so soon after his last meal, but then anger usually took him that way. It was why he had learned to control it over the years.  Anger made one reckless. As did lust, as he had discovered to his cost.

“You could just set it down on the floor,” he said.  “Push it inside the circle. I can’t reach out, you see, so you’ll need to put it inside for me.”

She took a tiny step towards him, and he remained still, waiting on the inside edge of the chalk circle, his hands by his sides.  Aurora licked her lips, shuffling closer. He could smell the scent of her in the air, warm and fragrant and ripe, and his fingers twitched a little as she reached up, red wine sloshing a little in the glass.

“ _That’s_ it,” he whispered.  “Good girl. Just a little closer…”

“Aurora, get _back_ from him!”

Gold wanted to hiss in frustration, and Aurora’s eyes blinked rapidly as though she was coming out of a trance.  She seemed to see him clearly for the first time, let out a squeak of surprise and almost leapt backwards. Wine sloshed over the rim of the glass, running over her hand and staining the cuff of her coat.  Mulan and Belle were glaring at him from the doorway, and he smiled thinly.

“Ladies,” he said, in honeyed tones.  “So good of you to join us.”

“Aurora, baby, we’re leaving,” said Mulan, ignoring him.  “Put that down, he doesn’t need it.”

“Really?” said Gold, his voice a low, dangerous hiss.  “And here I am quite _parched_ with thirst.  Perhaps you’re right.  Perhaps it’s not the wine I need.”

He could sense the unease in them, the creeping fear that whispered over their skin and made them shiver, even as they had him trapped.  Aurora set the half-empty glass on the floor, wiping her hand on her coat as she backed away. Gold had flicked his eyes across to find Belle, who was watching him as Mulan and Aurora slipped out past her into the corridor.  She was breathing hard, her chest heaving, and he could almost taste her nervousness in the air. It made one corner of his mouth pull upwards, and she swallowed hard, but squared her jaw defiantly. _As brave as she is reckless.  I can use that._

“I’m disappointed that you won’t be staying tonight, Miss French,” he said quietly.  “We were getting along so well.”

“Belle,” said Mulan sharply, and she licked her lips, tearing her eyes from his.

“Let’s go,” she said, and turned away, pulling the door closed behind her.

Gold listened to the apartment door slam, and the sound of their feet on the stairs.  Two of the candles had gone out, the room a little dimmer, but he didn’t need their light to see.  He began feeling his way again, pushing against the barrier and feeling nothing but a hard, impenetrable wall.  He would find a way, though. All spells could be broken, if one had the time and the patience to think things through.

It was some hours later that he first felt it.  A slight give when he pushed against the barrier, a slight sense that the wall was softening.  It made him grin. The spell she had used was not designed to be permanent, it seemed. Perhaps it came from a time when dark creatures were trapped only long enough to kill them.  It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was going to get out of there, and meet Miss French on his own terms.

He redoubled his efforts, pushing against that small, soft spot, leaning into it and rocking on the balls of his feet as he slammed his weight into it through the palms of his hands.  It was weakening, bowing and stretching, and he bared his teeth, growling as he quickened his pace. The barrier burst as though it had never been, pitching him forward onto the bedroom floor, and for a moment he lay there, palms flat against the floorboards.  The candles had burned out, and he pushed himself up onto hands and knees, getting to his feet and dusting himself off. He could sense that dawn was approaching, and he hunted for his socks and shoes, grabbing his tie from the bed and stuffing it into the pocket of his pants.

The sun was just beginning to rise when he stepped out of the door that led to the apartment, and he squinted, wishing he had brought his dark glasses.  Like all night creatures he was perfectly capable of moving around by day, despite the many legends to the contrary, but he preferred not to if he could help it, especially if the sun was out.  He tugged the open collar of his shirt straight, setting out into the bitter cold of the early morning air.

“Well well well,” said a drawling voice from across the street.  “Look who’s doing the walk of shame.”

Gold frowned as the woman who called herself Cruella slipped to the edge of the alleyway.  She was dressed in leather pants and a short, white fur coat, blonde hair falling over her eyes and red lips stretched in a lazy smile.  Jefferson stood behind her, dark-haired and handsome in his old-fashioned frock coat and purple cravat, grinning at Gold as he leaned on Cruella’s shoulder.  Both of them had the heavy-eyed look of two people who had over-indulged in every possible way. He suspected that they had.

“Well, I know what _we’ve_ been up to all night, and it involved a guy who tasted much better than he had a right to,” said Jefferson.

“Oh, we found the most _dreadful_ bar outside town,” put in Cruella.  “Full of men in red hats who are _remarkably_ intolerant.”

“They did takeout food though,” added Jefferson, with a grin.  “You go in there and shout the right things, and at least one of them will chase you into the forest.  It’s fun when your dinner comes to you.”

“Sounds nice and memorable for them,” said Gold dryly.  “What makes you think they won’t track you here?”

“Oh, they assumed we were tourists,” said Cruella carelessly, waving a hand.  “Said the most _awful_ things about us.  Did you realise that darling Jefferson’s an affront to the Lord?”

“Fucking years ago.”

“Well, it has been my aim for the past two centuries,” said Jefferson, pressing a hand to his heart.  “But we digress, Gold. What the hell kept _you_ in the library until dawn?”

“We have three new people in town,” said Gold tersely.  “One of them decided to use a spell to trap me.”

Cruella rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please tell me we’re not into some ridiculous damage control!” she sighed.  “I’ve had a long night and I don’t have the energy for a clean-up operation. I thought you had the sense not to attack the townsfolk.”

“She’s not townsfolk,” snapped Gold.  “Not properly. And she knows about us.  Some of it, anyway. Some of her knowledge is woefully inaccurate, but she knows enough to be a danger.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his mouth flattening, and Cruella put her head to the side.

“You look like you need a cigarette,” she announced, and reached inside her pocket for the silver cigarette case she carried.  She pushed out one of the cigarettes, and he took it, nodding his thanks.

“Did she let you go for free or did you have to pay a price?” asked Jefferson snidely.  “Because seriously, you look as though you had to forfeit. I mean the fun kind of forfeit.”

“Shut up,” said Gold absently, the cigarette bouncing on his lips.

Cruella reached forward with a lighter, and he took a drag, blowing out smoke in a bluish stream.  She fished a pair of sunglasses from her pocket and slipped them on as the sun edged higher, and Gold sighed, rolling his shoulders and shaking his hair back.

“Her name’s Belle French,” he went on.  “She says she’s not a witch, that she’s a bloody librarian, but she still managed to cast a bloody strong spell _and_ to create a powerful protection amulet that neither of you should get within five yards of.  She’s clever and curious and she’s here to learn as much as she can about us, so don’t bloody trust her and stay the hell out of her way.”

Cruella took a long drag of her cigarette, eyeing him with a tiny smirk as she blew out smoke.

“You shagged her, didn’t you?”

Gold sighed.

“Look, can we concentrate on what’s important here?”

“Oh, he shagged her,” confirmed Jefferson, grinning widely.  “Was this after she had you trapped and helpless and eager to please?  Kinky bastard.”

“Shut up!” snapped Gold.  “I’m trying to bloody warn the pair of you that we have a trio of monster hunters in town, and all you can do is take the bloody piss!”

“Well, if you need something to make you feel better, the chap we fed on last night might still be alive,” said Cruella.  “It’s a bit of a walk up into the woods, but you could probably make it in half an hour.”

“No thanks.”  Gold took another drag of his cigarette.  “I’m gonna head home and get showered. Just do yourselves a favour and stay out of the way of those three, okay?”

“You never want us to have any fun.”

“Fine,” he said tersely.  “Don’t come whining to me when they have you trapped and naked and at their mercy.”

“This is just sounding like a regular Friday night,” said Jefferson.

“For you, perhaps,” said Cruella, with a snort.

He pulled a face at her, and she tilted an eyebrow at Gold as she blew out smoke.

“So what’s next?” she asked.  “How do you want to proceed with the lovely young librarian-slash-witch that kicked your arse?”

“She didn’t kick my arse,” said Gold impatiently.  “She - surprised me, that’s all. It won’t happen again.”

“So, are you going to kill her?”

“Not yet,” he said, after a pause.  “First of all I want to see what it is that she wants.  And what she’s prepared to give up in return. We’ll see how she feels when the tables are turned.”

“So you’re planning on having _her_ trapped and naked and at _your_ mercy?” said Jefferson, and Gold grinned.

“You see, that sounds like a _much_ more pleasant way to spend an evening.”

* * *

Belle had spent a restless night in Aurora and Mulan’s room at Granny’s, curled up on the small couch with one of the spare pillows and a blanket thrown over the top.  They woke early and headed down to the diner to drink strong coffee served up by a young woman with red streaks in her dark hair, who was yawning almost as much as they were.  They ordered breakfast: eggs and bacon and short stacks of pancakes, and Belle felt much better when she was done, holding out her coffee cup for a refill and returning the waitress’s wide smile.

“Any thoughts about the cuff?” asked Mulan, her voice low and quiet, and Belle took a sip of coffee, nodding.

“Yeah, I think I know what I’m doing with it,” she said, matching her tone to keep their conversation private in the noise and bustle of the busy diner.  “Do you remember that spell we used on that demon down in Tallahassee? I know there were some issues to iron out, but on the whole it worked, didn’t it?”

“Well, he certainly wasn’t a threat after we used it,” said Mulan.  “Although I’m not sure the result we got is the one you want in the case of Mr Gold, given that you want to pump him for info.”

“We might be able to tweak the spell,” said Aurora thoughtfully, picking up her coffee.

“It’s not gonna take any more semen, is it?” asked Mulan warily, and Aurora giggled.

“I’ll leave the extreme sex to Belle,” she said.  “I was thinking we could change up the crystals we use to actually charge the spell.”

“As long as nobody’s naked, I’m in.”

Aurora picked up her coffee, taking a sip before setting down her cup.

“So,” she said.  “Let’s say the cuff works and he’s no longer a threat.  What then? What’s our next move?”

Mulan leaned forward, arms folded on the table top.

“Well, we can get some intel from him,” she said quietly.  “But I’m also interested in finding out about the rest of this town; if the rumours we’ve heard are all true it’s a _goldmine_ of information!  We came here for a reason, right?  I mean beyond Belle’s weird desire to bang the undead.”

“I’m sitting right here,” said Belle evenly.

“I think we should look for a more permanent place to stay than Granny’s,” said Aurora.  “How about we spend today looking around for an apartment? Would give us a proper base before we decide our next move.”

“Maybe Mr Gold has something,” said Mulan, in a very dry tone, and Aurora shuddered.

“Thanks, I’ll pass.  If it’s his apartment, he wouldn’t have to wait for an invitation to come in, right?”

“Damn, I didn’t wait to check he couldn’t come into my place without an invite!” said Belle, irritated with herself.  “Is there a spell we can use - like something that revokes any invitation already given? Like an _un_ vitation?”

“Maybe,” said Aurora thoughtfully, reaching for her coffee.  “I’ll hit the books, see what I can find.”

“Good,” said Belle.  “I’ll look too, once we’ve done the spell on the cuff.  Once he’s been contained, we can think about letting him out of the circle.”

* * *

They decided to work on the cuff in the library itself, as the bedroom at Granny’s really didn’t have the space, and magic had a tendency to go awry and burn holes in things, as Belle knew all too well.  She had raised her eyes to the ceiling when they entered, but there was nothing but silence from the apartment above.

“Is he sleeping, do you think?” whispered Aurora.  “Do vampires actually sleep?”

“I think they do,” said Belle.  “Whether they _have_ to - I don’t know, perhaps I’ll ask him.”

“Forget about him for now,” said Mulan firmly.  “Let’s get this spell done, so Belle can make her deal with him.  If she still thinks she can, of course.”

“I do,” said Belle.  “I know he’s probably angry, but the cuff should fix that.”

“The things we do for research,” sighed Mulan.  “Okay, girls, let’s go.”

* * *

There were a few false starts before they were successful, but eventually Belle pronounced herself happy with the minor amendments to the spell, and Aurora was confident that the casting was sufficiently strong.  The enchanted cuff sat on the library circulation desk, a thick silver bangle approximately two inches wide, engraved with Celtic knot work. Belle could sense the magic in it, that low-level hum that made the hairs on the back of her neck want to lift.

Aurora had also found a spell to revoke the invitation Belle had given Gold upon his arrival, and a small amount of potion was now contained in a glass vial.  Aurora explained that the potion needed to be poured across the threshold, although she admitted that the text used was ambiguous, and she wasn’t sure whether the spell would simply repel any unwanted human guests.

“You should set up shop,” suggested Mulan, with a grin.  “Come Thanksgiving those things would sell like hot cakes."

“Tempted,” said Aurora.  “I thought I’d see if the hospital was hiring first, though.  Maybe Belle can run a side business in the library. Special potions to suit every holiday and concentration aids around S.A.T. time.”

“Not sure the Mayor would agree to me hawking love potions and Repel-a-Relative from behind the counter,” remarked Belle.  “We may have to take payment in kind instead.”

Mulan picked up the vial of potion, holding it up to the light and watching it gleam iridescent turquoise.  She flicked her gaze to the silver cuff, then to Belle and Aurora.

“Okay,” she said quietly.  “Let’s go see if these work, hmm?”

She led the way up the stairs, Belle following with the repelling potion in hand and Aurora carrying the cuff.  There was nothing but silence from the apartment, and the three women shared a nervous glance before Belle unlocked the door.  She waited before entering, her heart hammering in her chest, but Gold was not standing behind the door waiting to pounce on them, so they shuffled inside, eyes fixed on the bedroom door.  Mulan looked back at the other two, pressing a finger to her lips, one hand on the sword she kept beneath her long coat. She reached out for the door handle, slowly turning it, and stepped back as she pushed it open, drawing the sword.

The bedroom was empty.

Belle pushed past, hurrying inside as Mulan hissed a warning, but it was truly empty.  No vampire hiding in the corner, just an empty bed with rumpled sheets, the chalk circles surrounding it.  He had escaped.

* * *

It took a long time for Belle to fall asleep that night after they had recast the circle with what remained of the potion she had mixed.  She hoped it would hold this time: they had adjusted the casting of the spell somewhat to make it stronger, but she had weapons beneath her pillows, just in case.  Mulan and Aurora had offered to bunk with her, and for half a second she had been tempted to accept, but in the end she had refused. To give in to her fear would be to admit defeat, and that was something she refused to do.  She had taken her mind off things by bringing in the few pieces of furniture: a dresser, chair and chest of drawers, along with a couple of boxes of books and her suitcases. She put away her clothes, and set the silver cuff on the dresser, unsure what to do with it, now that Gold was gone.

They still hadn’t been able to work out how he had broken through the circle and escaped, and Aurora was clinging to the faint hope that the sun rising through the east window had burnt him to ash.  Belle doubted that was true; tales about vampires burning up seemed to be nothing more than legends used by popular media for dramatic effect. Somehow she doubted that a vampire as old and experienced as she thought Gold was would be defeated by sunlight.

The curious, reckless part of her had wanted to go to his shop to see if he was there, clad in his silks and his suit, stalking back and forth with the ebony cane he used and thinking up ways he might kill her.  They had poured the turquoise potion across the threshold, hoping it would mean that he couldn’t cross, but Belle was starting to realise that all her research on vampires was next to useless when it came to Gold.  Knowing that he was out there, but not knowing the extent to which she was protected from him by her magic, was a strange mix of fear and exhilaration. None of it helped her to sleep, but eventually fatigue won out and she drifted off, her dreams strange and unpleasant.

She wasn’t sure what it was that had woken her, but the room around her was dark, the curtains allowing a little blue moonlight to filter through.  Belle could feel her heart thumping, and she ran a hand through her hair, momentarily confused by her surroundings. There was a strange tension in the air, as though it was filled with static.  As though a storm approached. She pushed herself up on the palms of her hands, and almost screamed as she saw a dark figure seated on a chair just outside the chalk circle surrounding her bed.

“Good evening, Miss French,” said Gold quietly.  “It appears we meet again.”

Belle’s heart pounded, thumping in her chest as disbelief warred with fear.

“How - how did you get out?” she managed, and one corner of his mouth drew up in a smirk.

“You thought you could hold me indefinitely?”

“Well, I—”  She cut off, shaking her head.  “Never mind. You shouldn’t be here.  I revoked your invitation.”

“My _invitation_?”  He looked puzzled.  “This apartment is mine.  Do you seriously think that signing a rental agreement changes that?”

She glowered at him, and he shrugged.

“Besides, that whole ‘can’t enter unless invited’ thing is a lie,” he said.  “It started doing the rounds hundreds of years ago. Religious types wanted a reason to push chastity and godliness, so they started saying that anyone who was bitten by a vampire had invited evil in and was basically asking for it.  Particularly women. Things never change when it comes to misogyny, it seems.”

“Oh,” said Belle.  “So not inviting a vampire into your house has no effect?”

Gold shrugged languidly.

“I can’t speak for all dark creatures,” he drawled.  “Perhaps your spell works on true demons, who knows? The rumour simply encouraged people to pray harder, and to give money to the church to save their souls.  Didn’t keep them safe, of course, but I find that human logic disappears in trying times. Perhaps the thought of some protection, however flimsy, gave them some comfort.”

Belle raised her chin.

“Well, be that as it may,” she said loftily.  “I recast the circle. You can’t touch me.”

Gold leaned forward a little, eyes gleaming.

“Really?” he said softly.  “I’m sure you’re perfectly competent at spell-casting, Miss French.  Your previous - efforts - caused me some small inconvenience. But I did find a way out, did I not?  Which means I can find a way _back inside_.”

His voice was a low purr, a hint of lasciviousness in it, and Belle could feel her cheeks heat.  She pushed away the memories of his touch, of his mouth on her, bringing her attention back to the matter at hand.  To the threat she faced.

“Have you come here to kill me?” she asked, her voice shaking only a little.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Belle hesitated, meeting his eyes, points of light in the darkness.

“No,” she said.

“Don’t lie to me, Miss French,” he whispered, and she shivered.

“Not unless I have to,” she amended.  “Like I said, I believe the knowledge you possess is worth the risk of leaving you alive.”

“Well, lucky me.”  His tone was dry. “You’ve killed vampires before, then?”

“Only as a last resort,” she said.  “When my life has been on the line. It’s happened twice.”

“And still you hunt us,” he mused.  “Despite the danger. Or is that what turns you on?  Did you fuck those two before you killed them?”

“Certainly not!” she snapped.  “I wanted to learn about them, but they just saw me as a meal to be devoured.”

“And you think I see something else in you?”

Belle raised her chin.

“If you simply wanted blood, you could have drained me dry at any point,” she said.  “What is it about blood, anyway? You could go to a blood bank and raid it for a fix without having to hurt anyone.”

Gold was silent for a moment.

“It’s not simply what feeds us,” he said quietly.  “It’s a sensual pleasure. The taste of it. The heat on your tongue, in your throat.  And there’s an - intimacy - to it. The warmth of the one you drink from, held tight in your arms.  The way your teeth slide deep inside them to release all that sweet nectar.”

Belle licked her lips, but gave him a flat look.

“So it’s a sex metaphor?” she remarked, and he smirked, shaking back his hair.

“Isn’t everything?”

“Not for me.”

“So you say.”

Belle sighed, exasperated.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said.  “Have you come here to kill me?”

Gold pursed his lips, looking her over.

“I haven’t decided,” he said eventually.  “Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

Belle’s heart thumped, but she kept her voice steady.

“Other than that murder is wrong?”

“It’s only murder if you kill one of your own,” he said softly.  “And you’ve made it perfectly clear that me and my - kind - stand apart from you and yours.”

Belle swallowed hard, one hand sliding beneath her pillow to check that the weapons she had hidden were still there.  Gold raised an eyebrow.

“I see you brought me a welcome gift,” he said.  “Much good it’ll do you. If I wanted to kill you, Miss French, do you really think you could stop me?”

“Like I said, I’ve stopped vampires before,” she said, her voice shaking a little, and he grinned.

“I very much doubt you were alone and in bed at the time,” he said.  “Do you approach all opportunities for research this way? Imprison people until they tell you what you want to know?”

“Is there a better way to deal with deadly creatures?”

Gold pursed his lips, as though considering the point.

“You could have simply asked,” he said.

“Would you have told me anything?”

He smiled, raising a brow.

“I suppose we’ll never know.”

There was silence for a moment, and he reached to the side, picking up the silver cuff between thumb and forefinger.  It gleamed a little in the moonlight as he held it up.

“This has magic,” he said.  “Would you care to tell me about it?”

Belle tried to think of a convincing lie, told herself he would be able to see through it in an instant, and decided to be honest.

“I was - I was going to ask you to wear it,” she said, and he looked it over.

“Doesn’t go with my outfit.”

“It’s protection,” she said sharply.

“I’m touched.”

“No, it’s - it’s protection for me and my friends,” she said, her voice stiff.  “It renders the wearer powerless, makes the demon part of them - uh - hibernate, I guess.”

He raised an eyebrow, as though he was intrigued.

“You’ve used it before?”

“A version of the spell, yes,” she said.  “On a demon I wanted to question in Tallahassee.”

“The roving reporter strikes again,” he said dryly.  “How went the interview?”

Belle fidgeted awkwardly.

“He - uh - passed out,” she muttered, and Gold chuckled.

“I can already tell you I have no interest in being unconscious and at your mercy, Miss French.”

“We’ve changed the spell since then,” she said.  “I think it had the effect it did because he was fully demon.  Perhaps on a vampire, a - a hybrid—”

“You really do look down on us, don’t you?” he said coldly, and Belle flinched.

“I - I just meant that I didn’t think you were fully a demon, that’s all.”

There was silence for a moment, and Gold watched her with unblinking eyes.

“So,” he said eventually.  “You wish to use this cuff to - castrate me?”

Belle licked her lips.

“It’s not like I’m threatening your manhood.”

“Oh, you think?”  His mouth twitched.  “You want to deprive me of my virility, do you not?  To render me impotent?”

“Wow, that sex metaphor really carries on through, huh?”

Gold showed his teeth, a gleam of white in the darkness.

“What can I say?  I’m a sensual creature.”

Silence fell again, and he watched her, running his fingers around the cuff as his eyes bored into hers.  She wondered what he was thinking. Eventually he set the cuff back on the dresser and reached up to where the tie was knotted at his throat, a faint gleam of silk in the moonlight.  His thumb dug at the knot, pulling it open, and Belle watched as he drew out the length of dark silk, a whispery sound as it slid from beneath his collar.

“Just how confident are you in your spellwork, Miss French?” he asked quietly, and she raised her chin.

“Pretty confident,” she said.  “Why?”

“Because I want to make a deal with you.”

“What - what kind of deal?”

Gold reached to the side, holding up the silver cuff.

“I agree to let you put this around my wrist,” he said, and held up the tie in his other hand.  “If you agree to let me put this around yours.”

“You can’t be serious,” she said flatly, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Why not?” he asked.  “At least I’m being open about it.  I’m not trying to trick you into giving up your freedom.”

She felt a stab of guilt over that, and shoved it away.  He was dangerous, and she had only been trying to protect herself.

“Let’s say I’m reckless enough to let you bind my hands,” she said.  “What then?”

Gold sat forward a little, his eyes fixed on hers.

“I tie them to the bed frame above your head,” he said softly.  “And I tease you with my tongue and fingers until you _beg_ me to fuck you.”

Belle felt her mouth drop open, her heart thumping high in her throat as a blush warmed her cheeks.

“You - you want to have sex with me again?” she whispered.

He smiled, teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

“Perhaps I want to see you helpless and at my mercy.  Turn and turn about, after all.”

“You must think I’m insane!” she snapped, and his grin widened.

“I think you’re curious,” he said.  “What say you, Miss French? You wanted to make a deal, after all.  That’s my price.”

Belle stared at him for a moment.  She couldn’t deny that the offer was tempting; their one night together had been incredible, but that was before she had trapped him with a spell.  Before she had angered him. Agreeing to surrender some of her power to him had to be one of the worst ideas she had ever considered, but there again wasn’t he right?  Wasn’t it exactly what she was asking of him? She put her head to the side, pursing her lips as she met his unblinking gaze. Strange as it was, she trusted him to keep his word.  Mulan would pitch a fit if she knew the deal was even being considered.

“What are the terms?” she asked.

He inclined his head slightly, a tiny grin on his face, as though he was impressed.  Whether it was by her question or purely by her recklessness, she was unsure.

“The terms are that you allow me to bind your hands,” he said quietly.  “And that you can come only when I can feel it. When I’m inside you.”

Belle felt a shiver go through her at his words.

“And then?”

He shrugged a little.

“Then I untie you,” he said.  “And let you sleep.”

“Okay, what about the cuff?” she said.  “How long will you wear it?”

“As long as I’m in your presence,” he said, and she shook her head.

“As long as I’m in Storybrooke,” she countered, and Gold frowned.

“How long will that be?”

“I don’t know.”

“So you want me to wear something that allegedly strips me of my powers for an indeterminate period of time?” he said thinly.  “In return for a single evening of your charms? I think not.”

“I’m prepared to hear a counter-proposal.”

Gold stared at her for a moment, shaking his head slightly.  She wondered what he was thinking. Eventually he sucked his teeth, shifting forward on the chair a little.

“I’ll wear it as long as I’m in your presence, or that of your friends,” he said.  “Except in the last defence of my life, or the life of another.”

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d care what happens to others,” she said, and his mouth twitched.

“What can I say?” he said quietly.  “This curse didn’t completely destroy the sentimental fool I was in life.”

She was silent for a moment, burning with curiosity about who he had been.  She had to know more about him, and the things he had seen. She _had_ to.

“And you won’t hurt me?” she asked, and he showed his teeth.

“Not unless you want me to.”

“I don’t.”

“Then I won’t hurt you.”

Her eyes narrowed a little, but his expression didn’t change.  Belle took a deep breath, and raised her chin.

“Okay,” she said.  “Deal.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been awhile, but in celebration of this fic winning Best Kink and Best AU Gold - uh - here *throws porn at you all*

Gold eyed her for a moment, then set down the cuff, pushing to his feet and walking slowly around the edge of the circle to the corner of the room.  Belle watched him light the candles that sat there in their group of three, and turned her head to follow him with her eyes as he crossed to the other corner and lit the candles there.  A soft glow began to spread through the room, highlighting his features, making the shadows of his eyes and cheeks darker and deeper as he walked back to the chair and sat down, facing her.  He lifted his chin, fixing her with his eyes as he slowly raised one hand and crooked a finger.

“Come here,” he whispered.

She wondered how easy it would be for him to break through the circle.  There was a tingle of fear running through her as she realised that they had only assumed that the barrier would work to keep a dark presence out as well as fence it in.  It made her doubt her abilities with the cuff, even though the spell used on it had previously been tried and tested.  Perhaps it would render him unconscious, as the last vampire had been.  Perhaps they had altered the spell too much, and it wouldn't work at all.  She began feverishly running through translations in her head, trying to work out if she and Aurora had missed anything with their casting.

“Now, if you please, Miss French.”

Belle started, and pushed aside the blankets, slipping from the bed.  Earlier that evening she had thrown on an old New England Patriots jersey that her father had bought her, and which was one of her favourite things to wear to bed, but the room was cold on her bare legs.  The wooden floor was even colder, and a little rough beneath her toes, and she made her way to the foot of the bed to stand before him, trying not to shiver.

“Take off the shirt,” he said quietly.

Belle sucked in a breath, looking down at herself.  Her hands shook a little as she grasped the hem of the football jersey, tugging it up over her head and tossing it aside, leaving her naked.  Gold pursed his lips, looking her over very deliberately. It felt as though his fingers were tracing over the curves of her breasts and sliding between her legs, and she shuddered as he licked his lips.

“Beautiful,” he said softly.

He bent to unlace his shoes, never taking his eyes off hers.  She watched as he took off the shoes and socks, and then his cufflinks, flashes of gold in the candlelight and faint clinks as they went into his jacket pocket. Cold air raised goosebumps on her skin, her nipples hardening with the chill, and she wanted to snap at him to hurry the fuck up. He smirked, as though he could read her mind, and suddenly rose to his feet, making her instinctively want to take a step back.  She squared her jaw, standing her ground, and Gold’s smile widened as he shrugged off his jacket.

“Nervous?”

“No,” she lied.  “Should I be?”

“You tell me,” he said.  “You are the one who’s made such a - study - of me and my kind, after all.”

The waistcoat was unbuttoned next, slipping from his shoulders to join the jacket over the back of the chair, and she raised her chin.

“Well, I’m starting to reevaluate my initial findings in the light of compelling new evidence,” she said, and he showed his teeth.

“A true scientist.”  He plucked open the buttons of his shirt, finger and thumb working their way down to his belly.  “I’d be _fascinated_ to hear your observations.  Is there a working hypothesis?”

“Other than that you’re a dramatic, self-congratulatory little shit?”

Gold sucked in a breath and flicked his hair back, looking amused.

“Well, well,” he said quietly.  “Sounds as though you resent me, Miss French.  Already regretting the deal, are we?”

“Can we just get on with it?” she said impatiently. “I’m freezing.”

“Are you so eager for my touch?”

“Hardly,” she said flatly.  “I just want to get this over with so I can get what I want.”

Gold grinned.

“And here I was thinking those two things were one and the same.”

“Wow.”  She folded her arms, giving him a very level look.  “You really think you’re God’s gift to orgasms, huh?”

“I don’t think I’m _God’s_ gift to anything,” he remarked.  “Put your arms down.”

Belle growled under her breath, but obeyed, putting her hands on her hips and tapping her foot.

“I presume you want to use protection?” he said, and she frowned, curiosity needling her.

“What’s the story for you on that front?” she asked.  “I always wondered.”

He rolled his eyes a little, tugging the shirt from his pants.  His chest was thin and pale, the low light finding out shadows between his ribs, and she ran her eyes over him, remembering how he had felt pressing down on her.

“You’re safe from me, Miss French,” he said.  “No diseases, nothing to pass on, no unwanted patter of tiny half-demon feet nine months from now, I assure you.  That’s an unexpected bonus of this - existence.”

“Oh.”  She was silent for a moment.  “Well. In that case it’s up to you.  There are condoms in the drawer, if you want.”

Gold nodded, He turned to the dresser, opening up one of the drawers and taking out a couple of condoms.

“Given what you got up to with my bodily fluids last time, I think I won’t be taking any chances,” he remarked, tossing them to her, and she rolled her eyes as she caught them one-handed.

“Suit yourself.”

“I usually do.”

“God, you’re a pain in the arse!” she snapped, and he grinned.

“ _That_ only comes when you beg for it.”

“Dammit!”  She wanted to throw something at him. _Irritating little shit.  Taking his sweet time about this, too._ “Gold, I’m freezing my butt off here.”

“And a delightful butt it is.”  He shrugged off the shirt, draping it over the back of the chair and unbuckling his belt.  “I thought you might relish a little anticipation. I always felt it adds a little something.”

“Right now all it’s adding is frostbite.”

“And you call me dramatic,” he drawled.  “Patience, Miss French. We’re almost there.”

She grumbled under her breath, and his grin widened as he took off his pants and underwear in one and put the rest of his clothes on the chair behind him.  He turned back to face her, leaning against the barrier with his palms flat. He was already hard, and she pulled her eyes away from his groin, drawing them up his lean body, trailing over the faint lines of muscles and ribs, the dark points of his nipples, the hollow at the base of his throat.  His nostrils were flaring, as though he was trying to catch the scent of her, and she wondered how acute his senses were, whether they were merely human, or whether he could pick her scent out in a crowd of hundreds. A violet light limned his hands, pulsing a little as he pressed down, and she licked her lips as his eyes bored into hers, hair just brushing his cheekbones.  The barrier didn’t break, and Belle squared her chin.

“So,” she said.  “Looks like you’re locked out, hmm?”

Gold stared at her for a moment, and one corner of his mouth pulled upwards, his eyes gleaming.  He leaned back a little, lifting his hands away from the barrier, and pressed one fingertip against it, drawing the outline of a heart with an arrow through it in thin lines of violet light.  Belle gave him a flat look, unimpressed, and his grin widened.

He raised his hands again, and surged forwards, pushing against the barrier, streaks of light flaring outwards from the points of impact.  Belle stepped back on one foot, eyes widening, and he slammed against the barrier again, and then again, lips drawn back over pointed teeth in a snarl.  She could feel her heart thumping hard, the urge to flee almost overwhelming, and at his next blow the barrier seemed to burst in a bloom of light, disappearing as he staggered towards her, eyes flashing with dark fire.

He seized her around the waist, pulling her hard against him as he bent his head to kiss her, and Belle rose up on her toes as his tongue pushed into her mouth.  Gold walked her backwards until she was pressed up against the bed, the metal frame cold against her buttocks, the kiss hard and raw and savage, and Belle tore her mouth away, gasping for breath.

“The cuff!” she protested.

His mouth was on her throat, open and wet, but he seemed to calm a little at her words, nose nuzzling her ear, lips trailing along her jaw, and he released her to step back and pick up the silver cuff from the dresser. She watched, trying to catch her breath as he slipped it onto his wrist. His eyes closed, and he inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. At least he wasn’t unconscious. Their alterations to the spell had worked so far, it seemed.

“Are - are you okay?” she asked nervously.

His eyes flicked open, black as pitch, glinting in the candlelight, and she felt her heart thump as the tip of his tongue swept over his lips, as though he would catch the taste of her.  He opened and closed his fingers a few times, the muscles of his arm twitching, the cuff fitting snugly around his wrist, and reached for his silk tie, drawing it slowly across one palm before pulling it tight between clenched fists.  Light gleamed on the silk, a faint sheen, and she licked her lips, heart thudding in her chest. Gold raised his chin.

“On the bed,” he said quietly.

His voice was a low rasp, a sound that made her breath catch and her belly tighten, fingers of desire stroking over her skin and making it tingle with anticipation.  She slipped away from him, climbing onto the bed and lying back against the pillows, the cotton cool against her skin.  Gold walked slowly towards her, and she gazed up at the ceiling, her heart thumping with a combination of apprehension and arousal.  She felt the bed give with his weight, sinking beneath his knees as he climbed on, and she closed her eyes, the scent of him drifting into her nose as he leaned over her, his knees on the right hand side of her body.

“Arms above your head,” he said softly.

She reached up obediently, stretching above her head, and jumped a little as she felt his hands on her wrists, the softness of silk wrapping around them in a figure-eight.  Gold then looped the tie around one of the steel bars of the bed frame, and tied it off around her wrists with a double knot. She felt him lift away from her, then straddle her with his knees, the heels of his hands pressing down into the pillow either side of her head.

“Too tight?” he asked, and she shook her head.  “Good. Open your eyes.”

Belle let her eyes flick open to see him staring down at her.  Candlelight traced the sides of his face and the lines of his nose and jaw, his hair haloed with a golden glow, his eyes dark pits.  She licked her lips, and he smiled slightly.

“And so we begin.”

His voice was soft and full of promise, and he bent to kiss her, lips gently brushing against hers, tongue slipping in between her lips and stroking.  Belle opened her mouth for him, letting her tongue touch his, feeling the brief scratch of his stubble as his chin rubbed against hers.  He deepened the kiss, and she moaned a little, shifting on the bed, her breasts just brushing against his chest. Gold pulled back, their lips parting with a soft, wet sound, and he let his mouth trail along her jaw, his nose brushing her ear.  Belle shivered as he pressed his lips to her throat, the tip of his tongue gently touching her skin, stroking over her, tasting her.  A frisson of fear rippled through her; she had left herself vulnerable, exposed, his mouth on her throat.  He could kill her without blinking, could sink his teeth into her and tear out her throat and drink her dry, and only Mulan and Aurora would know the truth of her fate.  It made her heart thump rapidly, and she felt him smile against her neck.

“I said I wouldn’t hurt you, remember?” he murmured.  “I keep my word, Miss French.”

His tongue flickered out, swirling in a wet circle over her pulse point, and Belle moaned, relaxing a little as he moved down the bed, his knees moving in between her legs.  His words had soothed her, calmed her, and she felt a little better about being tied to the bed and at his mercy.  Surprising as it seemed, she trusted him not to hurt her.  At least as long as their deal held.  She wondered how the cuff was affecting him.  Whether it would inhibit him in any way, or affect his stamina.  It certainly hadn’t rendered him impotent, if the feel of his cock against her thigh was anything to go by.

He kissed lower, shifting down the bed, his mouth trailing over the curve of her breast, and she moaned as his tongue swept across her nipple, sending a jolt of sensation through her.  He sucked the nipple in between his lips, rubbing his tongue over it, and Belle moaned, pushing up into his mouth.  Cold fingers walked their way up over her belly to cup her other breast, and she cried out as he pinched the nipple.  Gold sucked at her, rolling her nipple between thumb and forefinger, making it pucker and harden, and Belle squeezed her thighs together, flexing her feet as the sensations shot down to her groin.

He raised his head, holding her gaze as he drew his tongue across from one breast to the other, and she licked her lips, breathing hard, her chest heaving as he sucked at her.  His hand squeezed her breast, pale flesh bulging in his fingers, his tongue sweeping over her, wet and dark against her milky skin.  She could feel herself tensing, a low tugging in her belly signalling her need for him, and as though he could sense it, he looked up.  A smile curved his mouth, his eyes glinting wickedly, and he lowered his head to her, kissing his way down over the flat of her belly, his tongue moving in loops and swirls on her skin and dipping into her navel.  Belle let her head roll back against the pillows as he slipped lower, his hands pushing her legs apart. His nose nudged at her inner thigh, and she felt her heart thump as his hair brushed against her sensitive skin.

Gold kissed the inner wall of her right thigh, her skin as soft and smooth as silk.  He could sense her arousal, her need, could smell the scent of her in the air, and he ran the tip of his nose up to the crease at the top of her leg, inhaling deeply.  She was nervous, he could sense it, a touch of fear mixed in with her desire, and it was intoxicating. Long fingers splayed on her thighs, and he gently pushed her legs further apart, raising his head to gaze at the soft pink flesh of her sex.  She was wet and glistening, ripe and ready, and he licked his lips, nuzzling the soft cleft between her legs. Belle let out a tiny squeak of surprise at the first touch of his tongue, and he groaned at the taste of her, her flavour spreading over his lips.

His tongue pushed in between her folds, licking soft, wet flesh, circling the hard bud of her clit, making her moan and push her hips upwards.  She was delicious, and he longed to taste her pleasure when she came, to spread her scent over his skin and swallow her down. He slid a hand further up her thigh, one finger gently stroking the wet petals of flesh, teasing her entrance, and she moaned again, her legs opening a little wider. He pushed the finger inside, sliding deep, her body hot and wet, gripping him tightly.

Another finger slipped in beside the first, opening her up, and his tongue swirled over her.  Belle let out a cry, her hips rising and falling, keeping pace with his rhythm, and he slowly thrust the fingers in and out of her, his hips moving in tiny circles, rubbing his groin against the bed to get a little relief.  His cock was hard and straining, every scrape of the blankets against it a sensual pleasure, and he yearned to be inside her, to sink deep and fuck her hard.

Belle was arching her back, her moans growing in pitch and volume, and he thrust his fingers into her, his tongue flickering over her clit.  She was close, so close, her body drawing up tight as she chased her climax, her breath coming in pants, and he quickened the pace a little, the flat of his tongue rubbing over her.

“Oh, yes!” she whispered.  _“Yes!”_

He wanted to grin, but he kept up the pace, licking, rubbing, thrusting, until her moans grew loud and desperate.  Almost there.  Placing a kiss to her, he withdrew his fingers, pulling back, and Belle let out a squeak of surprise at the sudden loss of sensation.  Gold knelt up, enjoying the way her cheeks had flushed, her breasts rising and falling as her chest heaved.  Her eyes had narrowed in confusion.

“Would you excuse me for a moment?” he asked, with a grin, and she blinked.

_“What?”_

He pushed off the bed, and her confusion appeared to grow.

“What—”  She opened and closed her mouth.  “What are you _doing_?”

He waved a dismissive hand.

“I’ll be back momentarily.”

He heard her growl something uncomplimentary, and grinned to himself as he left the room, the floor cold beneath his bare feet.  Sucking her fluids from his fingers, he headed for the kitchen, noting that the bottle of wine they had started drinking the previous night was still open and unfinished.  Pouring himself a glass, he took a swallow, letting the rich flavour run down his throat.

_“You get back here right now, Gold!”_

His grin widened, and he took another drink, sauntering back through to the bedroom with the glass swinging from his fingertips.  Belle was glaring at him from the bed, eyes flashing darkly in the low light. Her arms were stretched above her head, her breasts soft peaks and her belly pulled taut.  Delicious.

“What the hell was that?” she demanded.

“I was thirsty.”

“That makes two of us!”

Gold glanced at his wine glass, then back at the kitchen.

“Well, I could get you a glass, if—”

_“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”_

He took a slow sip, savouring the taste of the wine, and sat down on the edge of the bed, enjoying her fierce glare.  One hand reached out, gently caressing her cheek, running down to cup her breast, his thumb brushing over the nipple, and Belle sucked in a breath.  Gold smiled, taking another drink, and then tipped his glass, letting a thin trickle of red wine splash onto the top of her chest. It ran along the pale valley between her breasts in a line of dark red, like a bead of fresh blood, and he bent his head to chase it with his tongue.  Belle moaned as he licked her, and he straightened up again, taking another sip.

“You sure you don’t want some?”

_“Gold!”_

“Oh, very well,” he sighed, getting up, and set down the glass on her dresser.  “Where were we?”

Belle scowled at him, and he couldn’t help grinning as he climbed onto the bed.

“My apologies,” he murmured, as he kissed her hip.  “Let’s start again.”

He could hear her breathing quicken as he kissed across the top of her thigh, his tongue flicking out to brush against her skin.  The muscles of her inner thigh twitched at the touch of his lips, and he let the tip of his nose trail across to where she was hot and wet.  One finger reached up to gently brush through slick flesh, and Belle let out a moan. He slipped the finger into his mouth, closing his eyes in pleasure at the flavour of her, then let the finger slide out and gently pushed it inside her as he bent his head to taste her again.

Belle gasped, legs opening wider, back arching, and he slipped a second finger inside her, pushing deep as his tongue stroked over her clit.  She tasted delicious, and he wanted to make her come, to drink her nectar, to bathe in it.  His anger with her had faded, her attempts to imprison him now causing nothing more than amusement, and he was impressed by her bravery in agreeing to be tied down.  Or was it her recklessness? That could be a danger to her, given the life she had chosen and the creatures she hunted.  Not his problem, he supposed.  For now, he was content to give her pleasure and take his own.  He could feel her body stiffening as she neared her climax, and grinned to himself, letting his tongue swirl in a circle.

“Is that good?” he whispered.

She moaned an affirmation, and he thrust his fingers in and out of her, her juices spreading over his hand, his thumb rubbing at her clit in between flicks of his tongue.  He could hear her breathing grow ragged, her muscles tightening, and her moans grew louder, tailing off with a frustrated cry as he pulled his fingers from her.

“Gold, are you _kidding_ me?”

He pushed himself up on his hands, grinning down at her.  Belle was staring at him in outrage, her chest heaving, and so he kissed his way up her belly, spreading her delicious scent.  He sucked at a nipple, pinching the other between finger and thumb and making her cry out.  Reaching to the side, he found one of the condoms she had dropped on the bed, and kissed up to her neck, rolling off her to lie by her side while he tore open the packet and slipped it on.  It would be wonderful to be inside her without it, to feel nothing between them, but he didn’t trust her not to use his leavings for some other spell he hadn’t thought of.  She was clever enough for that.

“Almost ready,” he whispered in her ear.  “Are you ready, Belle!”

“Yes!”

She sounded frustrated, and it made him grin.  He ran a hand down her body, over the flat of her belly and between her legs.  She was wonderfully wet with his saliva and the slippery heat of her own juices, and his fingers slid inside her easily, his thumb gently rubbing in a circle and making her moan.  His lips brushed her ear, and he smiled as he felt a shiver go through her.

“You feel incredible,” he whispered.  “Soft as silk. Beautiful.”

She gasped, lifting her hips a little, her arms shifting as she tugged at the silk binding her wrists.  Gold drew his tongue along the pale length of her upper arm, nipping his way back down to nuzzle at her armpit as his fingers slid in and out of her.  Belle had pulled her legs together, her thighs clamping around his hand, increasing the friction as he pushed and thrust, and he could feel her body shaking with the tension as she let him work her up towards the orgasm he would deny her.  She was rocking her hips up and down in a rhythm, perspiration gleaming on her upper lip, her lips plump and parted and glistening from the pass of her tongue, and she flicked her eyes to his, her cheeks flushed.

“Oh God, please!” she whispered.

He grinned, his fingers hard, rigid, pushing inside her.  Belle threw her head back with a loud moan of pleasure, pale breasts heaving, dark curls sticking to her skin.  She was so, so close, and he longed to let her come, to let her fluids drown his fingers, to kiss his way back down between her legs and suck the cum from her.  But not yet.

He pulled the fingers from her just as her moans became cries, and Belle let out a frustrated yowl, baring her teeth at him.

“You _bastard_!”

The fire in her voice made him grin widely.

“This is what we agreed, remember?”

She growled, but there was an edge of desperation to it, a frustrated whine, almost a weeping.

“Please!” she begged.   _“Please!”_

He let his nose brush her cheek, nudging her ear and sending a shiver through her.

“Please what, my dear?” he whispered.  “Please what?”

Belle swallowed hard, chest heaving, her body aching for release.  She was tingling all over, frustration making her want to scream at him, but he was right.  It was what they had agreed.  She would have to ask for what she wanted, and he was waiting for it.  Smug bastard.  She licked her lips, remembering the reason for the deal in the first place.  They would be on even terms once this was done, and she would get what she wanted from him.  It wouldn’t hurt to give him what he wanted in return.  Her surrender.

“Please,” she said meekly, “may I come?”

“You ask so nicely.”  He pressed a kiss to her throat.  “And yet so presumptuously.  What did I say, Miss French?  What did I say about letting you come?”

Belle moaned, part frustration and part arousal as she remembered his exact words, and felt him smile against her neck.  He lifted his head a little, his mouth on her ear, making her shudder.

“I said I’d let you come when I could _feel_ it,” he whispered.  “When I was deep inside you.  Am I inside you, Belle?”

 _“No!”_ she said, through gritted teeth.

“Then you have your answer.”

“So get inside me!”

“No.”

She growled her annoyance, pushing her pelvis upwards, and felt him smile again.

“Such impatience,” he crooned.

Belle arched her back as his fingers slowly pushed inside again, his thumb flicking over her clit.  The fingers sank deep, hard and thick inside her, and she let out a tiny cry, wanting more. Gold drew his tongue up her throat, his lips brushing her ear.

“Do you want another?” he whispered.

“I want to _come_!”

His chuckle was deep and rich, and she wanted to snarl at him. _Bastard, bastard, bastard!  Next time I have to get him to write this crap down!  Wait, no!  No next time!  Dammit, Belle!_

“Do you want another?” he repeated.

“ _Yes_ , damn you to hell!”

“Oh my…”  He tutted, shaking his head.  “ _Far_ too late for that, dearest.”

He added a third finger, stretching her, filling her, and she moaned, pushing onto his hand.  His tongue swirled over her skin again, sending shivers through her, and his lips found her ear.

“How does that feel, Belle?” he whispered.  “Is that good?  Is it enough?”

She moaned wordlessly, and he slipped the fingers out a little way, pushing back in with a wet, sucking noise.

“I can feel you squeezing me, pulling me,” he rasped.  “Makes me want to put my cock inside you.  Push it in deep and fuck you hard!”

His thumb rubbed over her clit, and she whimpered.

“I want to slide inside you and fuck you until you scream!” he breathed.  “Do you want it, Belle?”

 _“Yes!”_ she moaned.   _“Please!”_

“Please what, sweetheart?”

 _“Please!”_ she begged.  “Please - fuck me!  Fuck me hard!”

He let out a low growl, teeth nipping at her throat, and slowly drew the fingers out, sliding a knee between hers as he pushed up a little and took himself in hand.  Belle moaned and writhed as he rubbed the head of his cock along her slick folds, sliding over her clit and sending jolts of sensation through her.  She lifted her hips, trying to capture his cock with her flesh, gasping as he teased her entrance.  The head eased inside, and he grasped her hips roughly, holding her in place, the silver cuff cold against her skin.  His hair was hanging in his face, his eyes dark with lust, and he grinned at her, teeth shining in the candlelight as she hissed in frustration.

His fingers tightened on her hips, and he entered her so slowly it was almost painful, sinking into her with a low, guttural groan of pleasure.  Belle arched upwards as she felt him fill her, wrapping her legs around his back.  She wanted to touch him, to run her hands over his skin and feel him shiver at the pass of her fingers, to rake his scalp with her nails and twist his hair and tug him down to kiss her hard.  Having her arms tied above her head, helpless as he teased her, was exquisite torture.

His hands slid up her body to cup her breasts, thumbs rubbing over her nipples, and he began to thrust with slow, circular movements of his hips, grinding against her.  Belle threw her head back with a moan as sensations rippled through her, making her cheeks flush and her skin tingle.  He was deep inside her, his cock wonderfully hard and thick, her flesh tugging at him as he moved in and out, and she let out a cry as he ground against her clit, heat and wetness causing delicious friction.

Gold drew his tongue up her throat, revelling in the feeling of being inside her, her heat almost scalding, her walls gripping him tight.  He slid his hands up her arms, fingers lacing through hers and squeezing, and Belle pushed up against him, drawing her knees up as he thrust deep.  Sweat was forming between her breasts and on her belly, the fluids where their bodies joined making their skin slippery, and his hands squeezed hers as he thrust in and out of her, moving his hips with shallow, circular movements to grind against her.  Belle let out a tiny cry, her body stiffening, and he quickened his pace, his thrusts harder, rougher, pounding into her.  She came with a scream, pumping her hips against him, her muscles clamping down on him, her thighs tightening around him, and the sensation was almost too much.  He let out a long, low groan as he followed her, pleasure washing over him, his cock pulsing deep inside her.

Belle collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for breath, her skin tingling and her heart thumping rapidly.  She could still feel him buried within her, gently pulsing a little, and she licked dry lips as he reached between them to grasp the base of the condom and slowly pull out of her.  Gold lowered himself onto her, his weight almost comforting, his hands sliding up to cup her throat as his mouth found hers.  He kissed her hungrily, his tongue still carrying the faint taste of her, his skin moist and sticky with her juices.  Damp strands of his hair stuck to her face, and his lips pulled at hers as they kissed.  Her wrists were hurting, the silk chafing her skin, and she opened her eyes as her breathing steadied.

He pushed up on his elbows, nuzzling her nose with his.  She felt heavy-eyed and sleepy, and she murmured appreciation as he reached up to unpick the knot binding her wrists.  It was a relief to put her arms down, and he took each of her hands, pressing his lips to her wrists before leaning in to kiss her very thoroughly on the mouth.  She could feel him tugging the blankets from beneath her, moving them aside so that her back was against the cool cotton sheets, and he lay beside her and pulled her into his arms, letting her relax against him as he kissed the top of her head.  Her body throbbed, part pain, part pleasure, and his hands gently stroked over her skin as she let out a heavy sigh.  All too soon she felt him pull away, but she was too sleepy to care.  Her eyes were closed, her body wonderfully warm and loose, and she barely felt him get out of the bed and throw the blankets over her.

“Goodnight, Miss French,” he said softly.  “Until we meet again.”

* * *

She woke as the dawn light shining through the window was working its way across her bed in a narrow strip of gold.  The chirps of birds were coming through the window, and the faint sound of passing cars on the street outside.  Sitting up, she winced at the aches in her muscles, her shoulders stiff and her wrists still red where he had bound her.  The cheerful sound of her phone ringtone made her jump, and she scowled at where her bag sat on the dresser, before sliding out of bed and going to retrieve her phone.

“Hello?” she said sleepily, shivering a little in the cold air.

“Oh good, you’re up,” said Mulan.  “Thank goodness you’re okay, we were worried.  I take it Gold didn’t come back?”

“Uh…”  Belle bit her lip.  “Uh - I’m fine. How did you guys sleep?”

“Yeah, fine,” said Mulan cheerfully.  “We thought we’d do a little investigation today, see what else we can turn up.  I’ve got my suspicions about the woman that owns this place, not gonna lie.”

“Really?”  Belle was intrigued, and got back into bed to keep warm, pushing her hair out of her face as she worked her feet down into the warmth of the blankets.  “What’s your theory?”

“Maybe we won’t know for sure until the next full moon,” said Mulan.  “Which isn’t for another few weeks, so we have some time to figure out if I’m right.  She doesn't seem to be a threat, but I'd love to know how long she's had the condition.  Never come across a werewolf of that age - they're usually the live fast, die young types."

"I'm beginning to think everything we've read up to this point is an out-and-out lie," said Belle flatly.  "None of it seems to have been much use."

"Hmm."  Mulan grunted.  "You have any more ideas about how to deal with Gold?  I'm still not comfortable with the fact that he's out there with a grudge against you.”

“I - yeah, maybe.”  Belle tried not to grin.  “I'm not sure he's the type to hold a grudge, but just in case I thought I’d take the direct approach.  Go to his shop.  In the day.”

“Could work, I suppose,” mused Mulan.  “I'm guessing he likes keeping his head down here.  Makes sense that he’d want to avoid any kind of full-frontal attack.”

Belle bit her lip in amusement.   _Pretty sure he got enough of that last night, thanks._

“Well, that’s what he said when I spoke to him originally,” she agreed.  “I think I can persuade him to tell me a few things without it getting violent.”

“Great!  You dressed?”

“No.”

“Well, get your ass over here!” she said urgently.  “Big day ahead and breakfast’s on me, what do you say?”

The silver cuff lay on the pillow beside her, and Belle pursed her lips.  It had worked well enough to keep her safe from him when she had been tied to the bed.  Perhaps it would work in a more civilised setting.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time, Belle and Gold had a bunch of sex after Belle made a deal with him. But what were the terms he agreed to?

Granny’s Diner was busy when Belle arrived, waitresses sweeping past with trays of bacon and eggs, pancakes and waffles, and never-ending pots of coffee.  She slid into one of the booths opposite Aurora and Mulan, who were holding hands as they studied the menu. They looked up with wide grins as she sat down.

“So glad you’re okay,” said Aurora fervently, reaching out to squeeze her hand.  “I hardly slept a wink all night worrying.”

“Kept me awake, for sure,” said Mulan, with a smirk, and Aurora blushed.

“Well, that was - I was trying to take my mind off things,” she muttered, and buried her face in the menu. Belle shared a grin with Mulan.

“I’m starving,” she announced.  “Pancakes with bacon for me and as much coffee as I can drink.”

“Yeah, same.”  Aurora pushed the menu across the table.

Mulan raised a hand, catching the eye of one of the waitresses.  She trotted over, and Belle recognised the girl with the red streak in her dark hair from their previous visit.

“Decided to stay a few days, huh?” she said pleasantly.

“Oh, we actually decided that we like the place,” said Mulan.  “We’re looking for a place to rent, so if we can find a place we like, we’ll be here six months, at least.”

“Oh.”  The waitress looked surprised, and a little unnerved.  “Well. We don’t get many new folks coming to town. I - I guess if your friend here is opening the library, it’s nice for her to have some familiar faces around.”

“There’s a hospital, right?” asked Aurora.

“Uh - yeah,” said the waitress, and gestured out of the door.  “Head north along Main, and it’s on the edge of town. I hope no one’s sick.”

“Oh no, just looking for work,” said Aurora.  “I’m a nurse.”

“Oh.”  The waitress beamed.  “Oh, well, good luck! Now, what can I get you guys?”

Mulan gave the order, and Belle handed back the menus, folding her arms on the table as the waitress scurried off.

“You look tired,” said Mulan sympathetically.  “I’m guessing you didn’t sleep too well either, hmm?”

“Not really,” said Belle, wrinkling her nose and hoping her blush wouldn’t give her away.  Mulan leaned forward, lowering her voice.

“You think Gold’s just biding his time before he attacks?” she asked softly, and Belle hesitated.

“No,” she said.  “At least, I don’t think so.  I - uh - I saw him.”

“What?”  Mulan frowned.  “When? Why didn’t you say something?”

“Are you okay?” added Aurora, concern in her eyes.  “Did he - did he threaten you, or…”

“No no, nothing like that,” said Belle.  “We actually had what passes for a civil conversation.”

“Don’t trust him,” said Mulan sternly, and Aurora nodded agreement.  Belle shifted in her seat.

“Actually, I think it’ll be okay,” she said.  “We kind of - came to an understanding.”

“What kind of understanding?” asked Mulan suspiciously, and Belle tried not to blush.

“He’s agreed to wear the cuff,” she said.  “In my presence and yours.”

“Oh yeah?”  Her suspicion deepened, dark, shapely brows drawing down.  “How did you get him to agree to that?”

Belle sighed, but there was no use in trying to hide it.

“I had sex with him again,” she muttered, and Aurora snickered.

“Okay, pay up,” she said, holding out a hand as Mulan grumbled.

“You took _bets_ on me?” snapped Belle.

“Only five bucks,” said Mulan, with a grin, digging in the pocket of her jeans.  “I mean it was more a question of when rather than if, let’s be real.”

Belle huffed, folding her arms indignantly, and Aurora giggled as Mulan slapped a five-dollar bill in her palm.

“It’s not really funny, though, Belle,” she said.  “You do realise he could easily have killed you, right?”

“I know,” sighed Belle, leaning forward.  “It’s just - I know how it sounds—”

“Stupid and reckless,” said Mulan flatly.

“—but I kind of trust him,” she went on.  “I get the feeling he’s a man of his word.”

“He’s not a man.”

“Felt like one from where I was lying.”

Mulan sighed in frustration, rolling her eyes.

“You know what I mean,” she said.  “He’s not human, Belle.”

“I know,” said Belle, glancing down at where her fingers were laced together.  “I know he isn’t. But that doesn’t make him dishonest.”

Aurora and Mulan exchanged a look, and she could sense they wanted to argue further, but they remained silent.  The waitress returned, setting mugs of coffee in front of them along with a jug of cream, and Belle added some to hers with a packet of sugar, stirring it up and folding her hands around the mug.

“So,” said Aurora.  “What now? I’m going to the hospital to see about a nursing job, and we need to decide on an apartment, but we wanted to do a little investigating, right?”

Belle took a sip of her coffee.

“You said you had - suspicions,” she said, in an undertone.  “Anything you’d care to share?”

“Yeah, but maybe we should wait until we’re a little more private,” said Mulan, glancing around the diner. “This place is great for people-watching, though. You know, if they’re all people…”

“Given what you said about the full moon, I’m guessing that’s not true?”

“Time will tell,” she admitted.  “I have my theories about some more of the townsfolk, for sure.  A woman came in while we were waiting for you.  Dark hair, pretty.  Wore a _great_ suit.  I get the feeling there’s more to her than meets the eye.”

“That sounds like the Mayor’s daughter,” said Belle slowly.  “I guess If anyone’s at the centre of what’s going on in this town, it’s gotta be the Mayor.”

“Or our ancient bloodsucking friend,” said Mulan lightly.  “What’s your next move with him gonna be? And don’t say blowing him.”

Belle shot her a flat look as Aurora giggled.

“As I said earlier, I’ll go to his shop.  During the day.”

“You think he’ll be there?” asked Aurora sceptically.  “I thought his kind were more the after-dark type.”

“I’m starting to rethink every preconception I ever had about his kind,” said Belle dryly.

“Just try and restrain yourself from banging his ass this time,” said Mulan, and yelped as Belle swatted her arm.

* * *

Once breakfast was over, they went out into the town, strolling along the streets and keeping a sharp eye out for anything that looked out of the ordinary.  The townsfolk eyed them curiously, and Belle suspected that the waitress’s comment about few people choosing to stay was accurate. The people that they spoke to were friendly enough, but she noticed that some of them ducked out of sight rather than cross their paths.  It made her think that perhaps there were more non-human residents than they had anticipated, and the curious part of her longed to speak to them all. Perhaps the reopened library would entice some of them in.

Mulan updated Belle on her suspicions about the owner of the diner, an old woman named Mrs Lucas.  Her granddaughter was the waitress with the red streak in her hair, whose name was Ruby.

“And you think they’re werewolves?” said Belle, surprised.  “What makes you suspect them?”

“Just a - a feeling,” admitted Mulan.  “Like an itch between my shoulder blades, I can’t really explain it.”

“Also I checked the rotas,” put in Aurora, tossing back her hair.  “Neither of them work over the full moon. At least not for the two months that were pinned up in the kitchen.  I managed to sneak a look when I pretended to get lost looking for the restroom.”

“So for the moment we’re going with werewolves,” said Mulan.  “But we’re open to other suggestions.”

“Ruby said there was a club in town,” said Aurora.  “She seems nice. Maybe if we buy her a few drinks one night she’ll tell us.  It’s not as though we mean them any harm.”

“She may not see things that way,” said Belle.  “We can certainly try, though. Anyone else?”

“Not yet,” said Mulan.  “It’s hard to tell who might be casting a glamour, so we’ll need to try one of those spells we discussed if we want to pick up on that.”

“It can wait until we’re settled, I guess.”

Belle stopped on the sidewalk, bouncing on her toes and chewing her lip as she glanced across the street. Across from them was a shop, gold lettering in the window announcing its owner: _Mr Gold: Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer. _  She raised her chin.

“Okay,” she said decidedly.  “The sign says it’s open. I’m going in.”

“You sure?” said Aurora.  “You want us to come too?”

“No,” said Belle quickly.  “No, it’s fine. I think he responds best to the one-on-one approach.”

“Yeah, and we know how that ends up…”

“I’m not gonna sleep with him in his shop!” snapped Belle.  “I just meant - I was the one to make the deal with him, that’s all.  I’m going to see if he’s interested in giving me something other than sarcasm.”

“You’re just leaving yourself _wide open_ for innuendo here,” said Mulan, grinning at her.

“Oh my God…”

“Okay, we’ll stop teasing,” said Aurora, and shrugged.  “Probably.”

“Go find your apartment,” said Belle firmly.  “I’ll go and see if he’s in the mood to talk. We can meet at the library at one, what do you say?”

“We’ll bring lunch,” said Mulan.  “See you later. And be careful. No stupid risks, got it?”

“Yes, Mom,” said Belle meekly, and Mulan rolled her eyes.

Aurora took her hand, and the two of them set off down the street as Belle turned her attention back to the pawnshop, chewing her lip again somewhat nervously.  She couldn’t see him through the window, but she knew he was there. She wondered if he could sense her out there in the street, watching for him. If he could smell her scent in the air.  An image flitted through her mind of how he had looked in the darkness, teeth and eyes gleaming as he pushed inside her, and she blushed, shoving the memory away.

Squaring her shoulders, she glanced both ways and crossed the street, striding purposefully and reaching out to grasp the handle of the shop door.  She pushed it open without breaking her stride, a bell above tinkling merrily, and burst into the shop. At first glance it appeared empty, but then a curtain behind the counter was pushed aside, and Gold walked through from the back room, his eyes locking onto hers.  He was in a dark grey three-piece suit, his shirt midnight blue silk with a grey tie knotted at his throat. A rhythmic tapping near his feet indicated that he was using that gold-handled ebony cane to walk, and she presumed it was an affectation; he certainly didn’t need it, as far as she was aware. The thought occurred to her that it was part of his image, that it made him seem weaker, less threatening.  A lure to draw in his prey.  As though he could read her mind, he laid the cane carefully on the counter, placing both hands on the glass and pushing up on the tips of his fingers.

“Miss French,” he drawled, smiling his dark smile.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Belle marched up to face him, fumbling in her bag until she felt the cool silver of the enchanted cuff.  She drew it out, slapping it onto the counter, and Gold eyed it briefly before glancing back at her. The corner of his mouth pulled upwards in a faint smirk.

“What, no warm words of greeting?” he said silkily.  “I’m hurt. I thought that we might have moved beyond a purely transactional relationship.”

“I’m just trying to keep to the terms of the deal,” she said stiffly.  “I get the feeling that’s important to you.”

He held her gaze for a moment, dark eyes inscrutable, then looked down at the cuff.  Reaching out very deliberately, he picked it up between thumb and forefinger, and turned away from her a moment.  She watched him fumble with the cuff of his shirt, and when he turned back and tented his fingers on the counter once more, she could just see the silvery edge of the cuff around his wrist.

“The deal stands,” he said softly.  “Do you feel better now? Safer?”

“Mulan says I shouldn’t trust you,” she said, and his smile widened.

“Mulan is very wise.”

“But you’ll hold to our deal?”

He pressed a hand to his heart.

“I’m a man of my word.”

“Good.”

She took a step back, glancing around the shop.  Shelves of shining, dark wood filled the walls, each stacked with a myriad of items.  At first their placement seemed haphazard, but as she looked closer she could see a certain logic to it.  Delicate porcelain tea sets sat beside gleaming glassware, brass instruments were tucked in by antique cameras in leather cases, and jewel-bright lamps sent out coloured light to catch on the facets of crystal decanters.  Slim, tall shelving units near the counter were filled with old books with leather covers or shining dust jackets, scuffed at the edges. Her eyes widened with interest, and if it had been an ordinary antique shop, with an ordinary proprietor, she could have spent hours in there.

“See something you like?”

His voice was low and a little rough, making her shiver, and she tightened her jaw, pushing away the memory of his hands on her and the taste of his mouth.  She turned on her toes to face him, taking a breath.

“I don’t need antiques,” she said abruptly.  “I’m after information.”

Gold tutted softly, soft hair gleaming in the light.

“So you just thought you’d skip the foreplay entirely?” he said quietly.  “And here I was looking forward to a little verbal sparring.”

“Trading insults may be how you get your kicks,” she said stiffly.  “Not me.”

His grin became knowing, white teeth gleaming.

“Oh, I think I know how you get your kicks.”

Belle rolled her eyes as her cheeks flushed.

“Are you going to give me the information, or not?”

Gold raised an eyebrow.

“What do I get out of it?” he asked.  "Other than your utter disdain and the dubious pleasure of your company."

“We already made a deal!” she protested.

“Yes.”  He held up his wrist.  “Which I’m keeping to.”

“But - I said I wanted information from you,” she said.

“That was not the deal we made.”

“The deal we made was—”  Belle thought quickly, trying to recall the exact words.

“You did offer me some of your blood in exchange for information, Miss French,” he said.  “A tempting proposition, to be sure.  But I turned you down.”

Belle rifled through her memories of their discussion, and felt her heart sink.

“The deal we made was a mutual - binding - as it were,” he went on.  “Surely you haven’t forgotten already? I seem to recall being quite memorable.”

She wanted to growl as she recalled their conversation.  The bastard was right. She had been so eager to get him to agree to wear the cuff that she had omitted to specifically ask for the provision of information.  Gold was grinning at her.

“Quite the negotiator,” he said softly.  “I have a feeling that if I tried to sell you something I could charge double and you wouldn’t notice.  Easily distracted, are we?”

“It can be hard to maintain focus when there’s a killer in your bedroom,” she said dryly.

“Especially when you have an itch that needs scratching by said killer, yes?”

She ignored that.

“Alright then,” she said, raising her chin.  “I want to make another deal.”

Gold let out a breath, a low, rumbling sound that made her squeeze her thighs together.

“What makes you think I’m interested in what you have to offer?” he said lazily.  “You’re very lovely, but I find it easy to control my appetites. Unlike you, it appears.”

“I didn’t come over here for a booty call!” she snapped.  “I’m doing _research_!”

“Your methods are unorthodox,” he remarked, drumming long fingers on the counter.  “I imagine there’s not much scope for funding in your chosen area.”

“If all you have to offer me is sarcasm, I think we’re done,” she said shortly, and turned on her heel.

“Oh, very well,” he sighed.  “What is your offer, Miss French?”

She turned slowly to face him.  He was watching her, an expectant look on his face.  A clock ticked on the wall behind him, brass pendulum swinging back and forth, and she licked her lips.

“We can discuss terms, if you like,” she said.  “For my part, I want information. On you, and on this town and its inhabitants.”

He sucked his teeth, eyes flicking over her.

“I won’t reveal the secrets of my fellow townsfolk,” he said finally.  “They are not mine to tell.”

“And the rest?”

“What, do you want a tour of the town, or something?”

“I can find my own way around,” she said.  “But - well, I guess it would help if you could tell me any areas of interest.  Places to avoid, for example.”

“What else?”

“I want to know about you,” she said.  “The - the times you lived through. Who you were before - this.”  She gestured up and down his frame, and he pulled a face.

“I might be persuaded to tell you of my life,” he allowed.  “A little, anyway.”

“How little are we talking?”

“I’ll tell you what I feel comfortable divulging,” he said.  “How about that?”

“And if that turns out to be nothing?”

He smiled.

“Well, that’s a risk you’ll have to take, isn’t it?” he said softly.  “And we both know how you like to take risks.”

Belle thought it over.  Any information he could give her would be a bonus, as far as she was concerned, and she couldn’t help but be intrigued by what he might tell her of his long life, and who he had been before.  She leaned on the counter, mirroring his pose, her face mere inches from his. From that distance she could smell his cologne, drifting into her nose, scents of spice and wood and musk that made her abdomen clench.  Or perhaps it was his dark eyes, staring into hers, unblinking. She wondered if he could hear her thumping heart.

“Okay,” she said quietly.  “What do you want in return?”

“Well, I thought we could start with dinner.”

She blinked, surprised.

“What?”

“I believe I owe you one,” he said.  “You agreed to it before, and - well, we got rather distracted, didn’t we?”

He was grinning at her, and it made her want to slap his face.  She arched a brow at him.

“Dinner,” she said flatly.  “Do you actually eat? I mean stuff other than blood?”

The grin became toothy

“You of all people should know that I eat - many other things.”

“Dammit, Gold!”  She _definitely_ wanted to slap him, but satisfied herself with a glare.  “And you promise this will actually be a dinner, not just a glass of wine before sex?”

He pressed a hand to his heart with a wounded expression.

“If you insist.”

“Then fine,” she said ungraciously.  “Tonight at eight. And don’t think you’re coming to my place.”

“Of course not,” he said dryly.  “For all I know you’d redecorate and accidentally open a portal to a hell dimension.  You can come to my place instead.”

“Which is where?”

“My house is at the end of Misthaven Drive,” he said.  “You can’t miss it.”

“And do I need to bring anything?”

“Other than your lovely, suspicious self?” he said, with a wry grin.  “Not a thing. I’ll cook.”

“You can cook?” said Belle flatly, and he rolled his eyes.

“When you’re immortal, you have a lot of time to learn things,” he said.  “I assure you my skills extend beyond the bedroom.”

“I’m sure you think they do.”

Her tone was dry, and Gold gave her a twisted smile, his shoulder rising a little as he leaned in until his nose almost brushed hers.

“Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t you have fun?” he asked softly.

Belle pushed back, heart thudding in her chest.

“I’ll have dinner with you,” she said, her voice shaking a little.  “I’m not agreeing to anything else. And I want the information from you in return.”

“Very well,” he said lightly.  “A pleasant evening of food, wine and conversation it is, then.”

“Good.”

“Absolutely no sex to speak of.”

“That’s right.”

“Then I’ll see you at eight,” he said, and pushed up from the counter.  “The deal is struck. Good day, Miss French.”

He picked up the cane and turned away, pushing aside the curtain that led to the back room and letting it fall behind him, and Belle scowled in frustration before stomping out of the shop.  He was an irritating little shit, but she suspected he would be a goldmine of information. She just had to get him to offer some up.

* * *

Gold heard the tinkle of the shop bell as she left, and allowed himself a tiny smirk as he glanced between the two people that were perched on one of his benches.  Cruella was grinning, sleepy-eyed as she leaned against Jefferson’s shoulder, and Jefferson himself was sprawled on the bench, leather-clad legs spread wide as he sipped at a cup of tea.

“So,” said Cruella.  “That’s your horny librarian, hmm?”

“This isn’t a porn movie, dearie,” he said patiently.  “She may have the librarian post as a cover, but try to remember she’s a monster-hunter.”

“So, that’s your horny monster-hunter?”

Gold sighed, reaching for his tea as Jefferson chuckled.

“We took a peek through the curtain while you were arguing,” he said.  “She’s pretty, Gold.”

“ _Far_ prettier than you,” added Cruella.

“I don’t need to be pretty,” he growled, and she chortled.

“Whoever told you that?”

He ignored her, taking a sip of his tea, and Jefferson pursed his lips, looking thoughtful.

“She doesn’t seem all that enamoured with you, based on that conversation,” he remarked.  “How are you gonna play this? It seems kind of ill-mannered to invite her over for dinner and then make her the main course.”

“Although that _is_ a classic,” put in Cruella.  “One should never ignore the classics.  We have a reputation to uphold, after all.”

“I have no plans to kill her,” he said.  “She doesn’t appear to pose a threat at this time.  If that changes, I’m adaptable, but at the moment she seems more interested in getting information from me.”

“And you’re willing to give it up in exchange for a quick shag?”  Her tone was dry, and he grinned.

“What makes you think it’d be quick?”

She sniffed, tossing back her blonde hair.

“Please, spare me your arrogance,” she said.  “I just don’t want to find that you’ve spilled all our secrets as part of some desperate ploy to get a blowjob.”

“It’s not as though I have to go begging,” he snapped.  “Besides, I already told her there would be a limit to the information I could give her.  She wanted to know about my past.”

“And you’ll tell her, will you?”

Gold shrugged, taking another sip of tea.

“Within reason.”

“What’s that around your wrist?” asked Jefferson curiously, and Gold’s mouth flattened as he set down his cup.

“Nothing.”

“Looks like a bracelet,” said Cruella.  “Doesn’t go with your outfit, darling.”

“Did _she_ give that to you?” asked Jefferson, interested, and reached for it.  Gold jerked his arm away, slipping the silver cuff from his wrist and into his jacket pocket.

“She _did."_   Jefferson’s grin widened.  “You two reached the gift exchange point in your relationship.  How cute!”

“We don’t have a relationship.”  Gold hesitated, wondering why he had ever agreed to wear the bloody thing in the first place.  “It’s a—”

“Human-vampire friendship bracelet?” asked Cruella, with a snicker.

“It’s part of a deal I made with her,” he said stiffly.

“What kind of deal?”

“I agreed to wear it in her presence, that’s all,” he said, hearing the impatience in his voice.  “It has magic, designed to keep her safe.”

“Yes, but why would she ask you to—”  Her voice cut off, her eyes widening. “Oh _my_!  She put a _leash_ on you!”

“That’s not what this is!” he snapped, shaking back his hair.

“A muzzle, then,” she purred, and pouted at him.  “What a good boy!”

“Shut up!”

“Man, she made you her _pet_!” chuckled Jefferson.  “Oh, that’s gotta sting!”

“I’m no one’s pet!” he said coldly.  “I agreed to wear the thing in return for her surrendering to me for the evening.  It was a mutually-beneficial arrangement, nothing more.”

“And yet you still have it.”

“The deal is ongoing,” he said.  “Why do you think I asked her to dinner?”

“I heard her say no sex,” said Cruella slyly, and Gold smirked.

“We’ll see.”

* * *

Belle strode quickly back to the library, arms pumping as she tried to work off her irritation.   _God, he’s annoying!  How he’s survived all this time without someone just putting a stake through his heart for funsies is beyond me!_

The library was dark and cold when she let herself in, and she flicked on the lights, running her eyes over the bookshelves.  There was just under an hour to wait until Mulan and Aurora turned up, so she decided to start sorting through the books and checking the catalogue.  She was planning on reopening the place within a week, but she wanted to restock, and she opened up her computer and started compiling a list of the titles she wanted.  The discarded books were stacked into boxes, ready to be donated.

Mulan and Aurora arrived right on time, bringing burgers from Granny’s and large takeout cups of coffee.  They ate their lunch in the apartment, clustered around the kitchen table where the roses Gold had brought her still sat in their vase.

“So.”  Mulan reached for a couple of fries.  “What did he tell you?”

“Not much,” said Belle gloomily.  “But I’m going over to his place tonight.  He says he’s willing to give me some information on his old life.”

“Seriously?” she said flatly.  “A date?”

“It’s not a date,” said Belle patiently.  “It’s - well, okay, it’s dinner, but it’s not a _date_.”

“What are you having, blood sausage?”

“Hilarious,” said Belle dryly.  “I don’t know. He says he’ll cook.”

“What do vampires eat other than people, then?”

“I guess I’ll find out.”  She took a bite of her burger, chewing and swallowing.  “He wore the cuff, though, so he’s keeping to the deal. What did you guys find out?”

“Well, I have an interview at the hospital tomorrow,” said Aurora.  “From what I hear it should just be a formality. They’re desperate for nurses and the money’s great.”

“And we have three apartments to view this afternoon,” added Mulan.  “So things are moving on that front.”

“The real estate agents were nice,” said Aurora.  “Ursula and Ariel. They have a place together down by the harbour.  We got another invitation to this club - I think it was called _The_ _Rabbit Hole_?  Maybe we should check it out.”

“I’m in,” said Belle.  “Tonight’s out, but we could go tomorrow?”

“Good call,” said Mulan, dipping her fries into ketchup.  “I get the feeling some of the town’s residents are friendlier than others.  We should be able to get some decent intel, if we’re careful.”

“I suppose I’ll make a start tonight,” said Belle, with a sigh.  “We’ll see what Gold has to give me.”

“What are you gonna wear?” asked Aurora.  “That blue dress is nice. Brings out your eyes and makes your boobs look awesome.”

“Yes, let’s try to _attract_ the dangerous vampire, shall we?” said Mulan.  “Don’t encourage her, babe.”

“Hasn’t he already seen everything anyway?” said Aurora dismissively.  “She can still look nice while eating dinner with a serial killer, just saying.”

“As long as the dress has pockets big enough to hold a weapon, I’m okay with it,” said Mulan.  “Which means that everything except the yellow dress is out.”

“No no, that’s for summer, it has to be either the blue or the green,” said Aurora.

“I really think safety has to trump seasonal colour schemes, here.”

“Sacrifices must be made for the sake of fashion,” said Aurora, tossing back her hair.  “Besides, we both know that whatever he’s cooking isn’t gonna be the only thing on the menu.  I’m guessing one plate of _amuse-bouches_ and he spreads her out on the table.”

“Right here,” said Belle, in a very dry tone.  “I’m sitting right here, listening to every word you guys say.”

Aurora grinned at her.

“Wear the blue dress,” she said firmly.  “Use the weapons you got.”

“And take an _actual_ weapon,” added Mulan.  “Shove it up his ass if he looks at you wrong.”

Belle sighed.

* * *

In the end she did wear the blue dress, her breasts pushed high in a padded black bra with a matching lace thong.  She decided on bare legs, despite the cold weather, her feet tucked into closed-toe heels in burgundy to match the thin belt at her waist.  A fitted black wool coat kept the wind from her as she got out of Aurora’s car and glanced up and down the street. Her phone had led them to this place, the car inching along through fallen leaves as they searched for Gold’s house.  Misthaven Drive was on the edge of town, a broad, winding road with a few large houses set back at the end of long driveways. He had said his house was at the end, and they found it, a large Victorian with steps leading to a porch, its front door surrounded by panels of coloured glass.

“Okay,” she said, a little nervously.  “I guess this is it.”

“You want us to wait for you?” asked Mulan, from the passenger seat, and Belle hesitated.

“No,” she said eventually.  “No, I’ll call you.”

“Keep your phone turned on,” said Aurora.  “We’ll check in on you, got it?”

Belle got out of the car, closing the door with a thump and glancing back at them before she headed to the house and up the path.  Warm light came from inside the house, spilling out into the dark of the night, and she slowly mounted the steps, her heart thumping in her chest.  She knocked on the door, hearing the faint strains of classical music from within, which grew louder as the door opened to reveal Gold, jacket off and shirtsleeves rolled up, a dish towel over his shoulder.  The silver cuff gleamed at his wrist, and he grinned at the sight of her, a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Miss French,” he said softly.  “Do come in.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time, Belle agreed to have dinner with Gold in exchange for some information. And she is absolutely not going to have sex with him. Nuh-uh.

Belle stepped into the hallway, glancing around as he closed the door behind her.  The house was pleasantly warm, the walls painted a dusky pink. A staircase in dark, shining wood led upwards, and a gilt-framed mirror hung on the wall by the coat rack.

“May I take your coat?”

She flinched slightly at the sound of his voice, but opened up her coat, and his fingers slid over her shoulders and slowly pulled it from her.

“You’re looking very lovely,” he murmured, and she turned on her toes to face him with a wry expression.

“Save it, Gold.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking amused.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t realise that compliments were so controversial.”

“Yeah, well, you can keep your compliments,” she said.  “This isn’t a date.”

“Of course,” he said lightly.  “I’d forgotten how intent you were on guarding your virtue.  How very remiss of me.”

She elected not to respond to that beyond a flat look, and he hung up the coat and gestured across the hallway.  The silver cuff gleamed at his wrist, and she wondered whether he had taken it off since she last saw him. She wondered how it affected him.

“Please, go through to the lounge,” he said.  “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Okay,” she said suspiciously, and he smiled and nodded, sauntering away to what she presumed was the kitchen.

She walked into the lounge, looking around with interest as she did so.  It was beautifully furnished, with antique furniture in gleaming mahogany with silk coverings.  A rug patterned in green, red and gold covered much of the wooden floor, and an ornate mirror hung over the fireplace, which had a large, carved mantelpiece in green marble shot with gold and cream.  A tall bookcase held a number of delicate pieces of china and glass, and she wondered whether he rotated stock between his home and the shop. There were no books in the room, but he had said he kept a collection, which meant that they must be elsewhere.  She itched to find out what he held.

“I’d already opened some red.”  Gold’s voice made her look around as he entered, two glasses of red wine held in his hands.  “I hope that’s acceptable.”

“Thank you.”

She took one of the glasses, turning away and walking slowly around the room to study the rest of the furniture.  A large couch upholstered in deep green and gold silk, a mismatched armchair with red and cream striped covers, a small table in polished mahogany.  Belle dropped her purse onto the couch, cradling the wine glass in her hands.

“You have some lovely things,” she observed.

“Bits and pieces.”

She turned on her toes to face him.  Gold was leaning on the mantelpiece, wine glass dangling from his fingertips.  He had lost the dish towel, but his sleeves were still rolled up to his elbows, and she ran her eyes over his forearms, watching the tiny jump of muscles as he raised the glass, the fine dark hairs glinting in the light.  Her gaze travelled up to his face, his dark eyes watching her.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked, and he licked his lips, a brief pass of his tongue.

“Venison,” he said.  “Roast rack with fondant potatoes and a rosemary and red wine sauce.”

“Sounds delicious,” she said.  “I guess a lot of hunting goes on around here.”

He smirked at that, as though she had said something amusing.

“More than you might think.”

His voice was low and a little rough, making the hair on the nape of her neck stand up and her belly clench. An image came to her: a memory of his hands on her, his mouth on her, lips trailing over her skin as he whispered filthy words.  She blushed a little, trying to keep her mind out of the gutter.

“Did you kill the deer that provided this venison?” she asked, and he gestured up and down himself.

“Can you see me running around in the woods, butchering things with a hunting knife?”

“I don’t know,” she said.  “I suspect you have many faces that you hide from the world.”

He grinned at that.

“Perhaps, but blood’s a bitch to get out of one’s suits,” he said.  “My dry-cleaning bill is quite hefty enough, thank you.”

“A fastidious vampire?” she said, in a wry tone.

“You were expecting me to be eager to bathe in gore?”

“Maybe not,” she allowed.  “But somehow I doubt you’d baulk at slaughtering a deer.”

“And that bothers you?”

“Maybe a little,” she admitted.  “I wouldn’t ever go hunting. My father used to go and shoot things, but I refused to go with him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice a soft purr.  “I didn’t realise you were vegetarian.”

“I’m not,” she said, after a pause.

“So you’re not ideologically opposed to the slaughter itself,” he said, “but you purchase your meat in clean plastic trays from the store, so somehow that means you can forget about the whole unpleasant business.”

“Then you did kill it?” she said, ignoring the barb.

He smiled.

“It was a gift from a friend,” he said.

“Is this friend like you?”

“No,” he said.  “His idea of a pleasant evening is too much mediocre alcohol followed by an erotic encounter with several strangers.”

Belle raised an eyebrow.  “And yours?”

His smile widened.

“I’m already having a very pleasant evening, Miss French.”

She gave him a look, amused in spite of herself.

“That’s not what I meant, anyway,” she said.  “Is he - like you? A vampire?”

Gold shrugged slightly, neither confirming nor denying, and she huffed in frustration, taking a sip of her wine.  It was very good: rich and fruity, with the smooth taste of black cherries and chocolate. She took another sip. He was watching her over the rim of his glass, dark eyes gleaming.  A clock ticked its slow, deep rhythm on the wall behind her, and she wished her heart would keep pace with it instead of hammering against her ribs.

“How’s the taste?” he asked quietly.

“It’s very good,” she said.  “I’m the first to admit I wouldn’t know where to start with buying good wine, but this is delicious.”

“Worth opening, then.”

There was a moment of silence, and she turned away from him a little, wandering slowly around the room and pretending an interest in the porcelain on the shelves, so that she wouldn’t have to look at him.  She could feel his eyes on her, like spectral fingers caressing her skin, and she shivered.

“You seem agitated, Miss French,” he said.  “Rest assured I mean you no harm. Not this evening, anyway.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said automatically.

“You’d be very foolish, if that were so,” he said.  “But we both know it’s a lie. You are afraid of me, because you’re intelligent enough to recognise the threat I present.  You’re also reckless enough not to let that stop you.”

Belle turned slowly on the balls of her feet, hair swinging behind her as she faced him.

“Stop me from what?”

Gold shrugged, a brief rise and fall of one shoulder, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Well, time will tell, won’t it?”

Belle shot him a very level look.

“I am not having sex with you,” she said flatly, and he pressed a hand to his heart.

“Who said anything about sex?” he asked.  “My my, you _do_ have a one-track mind.  A few screaming orgasms and that’s all you can think about.  For shame!”

She turned away, seething with a mix of irritation and amusement.  Burying her nose in her wine, she inhaled its rich aroma. He was still watching her, dark eyes flicking over her, and it made her think of how it felt to have his hands on her, his mouth on her, his fingers inside her.  She licked her lips, shoving the images away, and looked up.

“Are you eating this dinner with me?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“So…” She floundered a little.  “So - how often do you need to feed on - on blood?”

Gold shrugged.

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“On who crosses my path,” he said, with a tiny grin.  “Perhaps you would call me an opportunist.”

“Perhaps I’d call you a murderer.”

Gold tilted his head from side to side.

“Potato, potahto…”

“That’s not funny,” she said stiffly.  “You must know it’s wrong to kill people.”

“When you’re in my position, Miss French, you’ll find that human judgements on morality lose their significance somewhat.”

“Hmm.”  She looked him over thoughtfully.  “And yet you invited me over and prepared a delicious meal instead of simply tearing out my throat like you first threatened to.”

“Well, as I said.”  His voice was quiet, almost menacing.  “One desire is much like another.”

“And you still insist on good manners and polite conversation and immaculate dress.”

“Of course.  I’m not a savage.”

“So is that something you’ve developed over the years, or is it carried over from the man you were before you became - this?”

Gold didn’t respond, and his silence made her want to push him further.

“I think you still hold to a great many of the ideals of your past life,” she said, intrigued by the sudden twitch of his lip.  “I think maybe you’re not as dark as you want people to believe.”

“Maybe I’m darker,” he said softly, and she smiled.

“Okay, then why did you ask me here?”

Gold pulled a face.

“I owed you dinner.”

“Yes, but you could have taken me to Granny’s.”

“I think not,” he said quietly, looking offended.

“Some other restaurant, then.”

“Is there something wrong with my home?”

“Of course not, it’s just - I didn’t think you’d want to let someone in here, that’s all.”

She wondered if her double meaning was too subtle, but the way his eyes narrowed suggested that he had caught it.

“I’m not a hermit, Miss French,” he said coolly.  “And I assure you that this house is not a metaphor for my heart and soul.”

Belle pursed her lips.

“Isn’t it?” she said.  “How many other women have you brought here?”

Gold showed his teeth, his eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement.

“Oh, you want to discuss our respective sexual histories?” he asked.  “I hate to disappoint, but a gentleman never tells. I assure you this isn’t some sort of romantic overture.”

“Really?” she said.  “Because I think maybe you’re tired of the life you lead, of only seeing humans as prey.”

“Is that how you think I see you?” he asked.  “Dangerous to be here, if so.”

“No,” she said.  “No, that’s not how you see me, is it?”

He was silent, fingers tapping restlessly on the mantelpiece, and she wanted to smile.

“Maybe you’re tired of pretending to be part of a world in which you’re always an outsider,” she said softly. “Maybe you’re lonely.”

“I’m not,” he said shortly, and she shrugged, stepping closer.

“So you say,” she said.  “I guess you don’t want to admit it because it’s been so long, but all those years passing by with no one to share them?  Anyone would grasp at a chance of conversation, of - of _connection_.”

She moved closer, until she was within a pace of him, close enough to smell his cologne and see the tiny lines at the corners of his mouth.  The fire crackled, its warmth bathing her legs, and she met his eyes, the golden light of the lamps reflected in their dark depths. His nostrils flared a little, and she could feel her heart thumping, her skin tingling.  The air between them seemed to hum and spark, and she felt that low-down pull of desire again, her eyes dropping to his lips before flicking upwards once more. Gold shifted position, setting his glass down on the mantelpiece and leaning against it as he shook his hair back.

“You think I seek a - connection - with you?”

His voice was a low growl that seemed to vibrate in the air around her, and Belle placed her glass next to his, trying to steady her racing heart, her quickening breath.

“I think you offered me valuable information, and all you asked in return was to have dinner,” she said softly. “I’m just joining the dots and making a picture.”

Gold locked his eyes onto hers, the tension between them almost palpable.  But then he smiled, breaking the strange spell, and there was a touch of patronising indulgence in his expression.

“Tell me,” he said.  “When you were conducting your no doubt extensive research into my kind, exactly how many tedious pieces of vampire-based romance fiction did you read?”

“I—”  Belle opened and closed her mouth, suddenly thrown.  “Well, I wouldn’t call the reading of fiction _research_ , exactly, but it can give some interesting insights at times, and—”

“Perhaps I’m supposed to be brooding alone somewhere,” he interrupted, making his fingers dance in the air with his words.  “Telling you to stay away from me for your own good, hinting at some dark secret, assuring you that I’m a monster.”

Belle folded her arms, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you telling me you’re not?”

Gold’s smile widened.

“Despite my physical advantages, I daresay I’m no more of a monster than some,” he said.  “I don’t kill unless I have to, and those I do kill are no loss to this world.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“That’s not for you to decide.”

“Oh, so I should leave it up to the justice system in this country?”  He snorted quietly. “Please. You know very well that justice has little to do with who walks free, and who faces a death sentence.”

“And so you pronounce yourself judge, jury and executioner of those you hunt?”

“No,” he said.  “I pronounce myself hungry.  And reasonably selective in my choice of food source.”

Belle scowled, putting her hands on her hips.

“Your ‘food source’, as you put it, happens to be a living, breathing person with - with a family, and - and feelings!”

“So?”

 _“So!”_ She threw up her hands.  “So, you take all that away from them!”

“And?”

“And that doesn’t _bother_ you?”

“Should it?” he said lazily.  “Does the wolf feel remorse for culling the aged deer?”

“A wolf isn’t a human being!”

“No more am I.”

There was silence for a moment.  Belle couldn’t really think of a response to that, and Gold shrugged, looking amused.

“You appear to be under the delusion that I should be some sort of tortured soul,” he said.  “Trapped by my own darkness, consumed with guilt and self-loathing, a creature to be pitied.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“The truth of the matter, Miss French,” he went on, “is that I _like_ my life.  I have a delightful home in a quaint little town.  I have books and music and good food and excellent wine.  Every so often, I enjoy the company of someone. I have the time and the money to do whatever I wish, with no fear of the clock running down, no fear of disease or death getting in the way of what I want.  My life, on the whole, is highly enjoyable. I just want to live it, with as little interference from the outside world as possible. I daresay most of the residents of this town feel the same.”

Belle sighed in frustration, and he took a step closer.

“I don’t need your pity,” he said quietly.  “And I _certainly_ don’t need to be saved.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to tend to our dinner.”

He picked up his wine, pushing away from the fire and sauntering off to the kitchen, and she watched him go, irritated.  After a moment, she could hear the clatter of pans, and she reached for her purse, taking out her phone to text Aurora a brief message to let them know she was fine.  Slipping the phone back into her purse, she picked up her wine and wandered through to the kitchen. It was surprisingly modern compared to the lounge and hallway, with granite worktops and gleaming appliances.  Gold was stirring something, his wine glass on the counter beside him and a delicious smell rising from the pan. He glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Another ten minutes or so,” he said.  “Perhaps you’d like to go through to the library while you wait.”

“You have a _library_?”

She stared at him, wide-eyed, and he smirked.

“Turn right into the hallway, and it’s the door at the end.”

Belle followed his directions, eyes questing ahead.  She found the door easily, and pushed at it, reaching to the side for the light switch and flicking it on.  Her mouth fell open. The room was large, wooden shelving covering the walls, and books were stacked from floor to ceiling.  A chaise striped in red and white silk sat beside a small mahogany table, a lamp with a large silk shade patterned in flowers atop it.  Belle stepped inside, walking slowly around the room, eyes running over the titles on the spines of the books. She was pleased to see that it was mostly fiction, with one wall dedicated to history, politics and biographies.  The books appeared to be grouped in genre, with two shelves just for poetry, and she smiled as she saw how many of her own classic favourites he held. She wondered which were his own favourites.

She ran a finger over rounded spines, feeling the roughness of cloth binding, the smoothness of leather on books a hundred years old or more.  A tiny smile curved her lips. Had he read them all? Had he sat by candlelight, by lamplight, pages turning as old clocks ticked and the fire crackled and the world turned, as the humans around him were born and lived and died?

The sound of footsteps made her straighten up, and Gold walked in, glass of wine dangling from his fingertips.

“This is a lovely room,” she said truthfully.  “How long have you lived in this house?”

“Oh, sixty years or more,” he said.  “It’s a pleasant space. I’m quite comfortable here.”

“So many books!” she said, eyes scanning the shelves.

“I can give you recommendations, if you like,” he said.  “But perhaps later. Dinner is ready.”

Belle followed him to a room she hadn’t yet entered.  The dining room had the same pink walls as the rest of the house, a long, shining table that looked to be made of walnut, ten chairs, and a large sideboard along the wall.  A light fitting in the shape of a wrought-iron chandelier hung above the table, but the light came from bulbs rather than candles. The table had been set for two, the places opposite one another at the end, set with silver cutlery and gleaming glassware.  The bottle of red wine, its contents mostly gone, was standing on a silver-plated coaster.

“Please take a seat,” he said.  “I’ll bring the food.”

Belle took the chair nearest the door once he had left, smoothing the skirt of her dress over her legs.  There was music playing at a low volume, some classical piece she didn’t recognise, a soothing, lilting tune.  She took a sip of wine, glancing around herself. His house was incredibly neat and clean, and she wondered if he had someone come in and clean the place, or if he did it himself.  Did the rest of the town know what he was? Was the non-human community fully integrated, or living their lives in secret amongst the humans? All questions she was burning to ask.

She heard his footsteps, a rhythmic tapping on the polished floor, and turned her head as he entered the room, two plates of food in his hands.  He set one in front of her, and a delicious smell wafted into her nose as she looked it over. Three thick chops of tender venison, the meat pink in the middle and the bones neatly-trimmed, rested against a portion of potatoes dauphinoise, crisp-topped and oozing creamy sauce. The beans and carrots she had noticed earlier had been steamed and were glistening with butter, and a rich, glossy sauce was poured over.

“It looks delicious,” she said, and he smiled.

“Let me know how it tastes.”

Belle cut a piece of meat, popping it into her mouth.  The meat was tender, the taste deep and a little smoky.  The sauce coating it was rich with red wine and stock, the clean flavour of rosemary and the sweet, tart taste of berries.  Her mouth watered, and she made a noise of appreciation as she chewed. Gold smiled, eyes gleaming.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

They ate in silence for awhile, pausing to take sips of wine, and she watched him as the meal went on.  He seemed to enjoy the food, and she wondered how it compared to blood. Whether he felt the same hunger she did, or whether there was only one thing that would truly sate him.  Her mind slipped away to dwell on more lurid thoughts, and she blushed a little, concentrating on her food and trying to clear the memories from her mind.

“So,” said Gold, making her look up.  “How are you finding our little town?”

“It’s - very quaint,” she said, and he smiled.

“I meant your investigations into its inhabitants,” he said.  “I’m well aware you and your friends have been traipsing around the place, trying to figure people out.  It’s amusing.”

Belle sat back a little, picking up her glass.

“Well, so far we think that the owner of _Granny’s Diner_ could be a werewolf,” she said.  “Possibly her granddaughter too. And I’m thinking nothing happens in this town without the Mayor knowing about it, so she has to have some involvement in your world, right?  Her daughter seemed very wary when she met me.”

“I already told you,” he said.  “I won’t reveal the secrets of my fellow townsfolk.  If you want their stories, you’ll have to ask them yourself.”

“So what _can_ you tell me?” she asked, and he sighed, putting down his knife and fork and reaching for his wine.

“The Mayor’s name is Cora Mills,” he said.  “She has two daughters, Zelena and Regina.”

“I met Regina,” she said slowly.  “Dark hair? Very pretty?”

“That’s her.”

“So - what’s Zelena like?”

“Red hair.  Very annoying.”

Belle shot him a look.

“And the Mayor?”

“Ambitious, and not to be trusted,” he said.  “But she is admittedly a very competent Mayor.  Zelena inherited her mother’s ruthlessness with none of her competence.  Regina is very intelligent, and has a softer nature, but she can be just as volatile and impulsive as her sister.  They live at the Mayor’s mansion with Cora’s on-off lover Mal and her own daughter, Lily. Lily is a little younger than Regina.”

“Quite the coven,” remarked Belle, and Gold’s eyebrows quirked.

“Your words, not mine,” he said dryly.

“So - are they witches?” she asked eagerly, leaning forward.

“I didn’t say that.”

She sat back, frustrated, but at least it was something.

“Okay,” she said.  “What else can you tell me?”

“Well, there’s an ice cream parlour that I’m rather fond of,” he said breezily.  “The burgers at Granny’s are excellent, and she has a chicken special on Fridays.  I can recommend the blueberry cobbler.”

“Gold, come on…”

He eyed her for a moment, drumming his fingers on the table, then picked up the wine bottle and leaned forward to pour the remaining wine into their glasses.

“Very well,” he said.  “Why don’t you tell me what it is that you’re after, Miss French?”

“I want to know about you and - and vampires in general,” she said.  “It’s like - so much of what I understood to be true seems to be inaccurate, from what you tell me.”

“I suppose empirical studies are somewhat thin on the ground.”

“So, here’s your chance to be part of something groundbreaking, then,” she said lightly, and he stared at her, unblinking.

“I have no desire to be a footnote in your thesis.”

“I was thinking more like a specific acknowledgement, thanking you for your valuable input,” she said, with a grin, and he rolled his eyes.

“Why don’t you ask your questions and I’ll decide whether I want to answer them?”

“Okay,” she said.  “How do you _become_ a vampire?”

“Are you asking for my backstory or is this a more general question?”

“Uh - both, I guess.”

“General first, then,” he said.  “You get bitten. Sometimes the vampire drains you dry and that’s the end of it.  You end your time on this earth as a delicious meal for a monster. But sometimes the vampire feeds you some of their blood, and that changes you.  The curse passes into you, and changes you forever.”

Belle frowned.

“That’s twice now you’ve called it a curse,” she said.  “And yet earlier you said you _liked_ your life.  So which is it?”

Gold shrugged, cutting up the last of his venison.

“Even the most enjoyable life has its off-days.”

“So - so is ‘the curse’ - to borrow your expression - is it like a parasite?” she asked.  “Or is it a virus?”

Gold sucked his teeth, looking thoughtful.

“I suppose it’s more akin to a parasite,” he agreed.  “The old you remains, but it’s forever altered. I don’t just mean in the obvious physical advantages, the immortality.”

“In what other ways?”

He pulled a face, lower lip drawing up over his teeth as he shrugged.

“In that your primary desire is now to sate your sudden and overwhelming appetite for human blood.”

“I thought you said you could control that.”

“We were talking in general terms, remember?” he said.  “I can abstain for long periods if I choose, but the need is still there.  I’ve just learned to control it.”

“Is that - is that a long process?” she asked, and he smiled, a brief twitch of his lips.

“A century or two, but who’s counting?”

Belle’s mouth fell open, curiosity burning within her.

“How old are you?”

“My my, what a rude question!” he drawled, pressing a hand to his heart, and she sat back, slumping a little in her seat.

“God, you’re such an asshole!” she sighed, and then her eyes widened as something occurred to her.  “Oh, wait! Is there - is there something _cultural_ in that?  Like is it offensive to question a vampire’s age?  Because if so, then I’m really sorry, I didn’t know.  I want to learn, I really do!”

Gold was silent, his eyes gleaming as he watched her, and Belle frowned at him.

“Well?” she said, a touch of asperity returning to her voice.  “Look, I’m trying, okay? But I can’t avoid creating an uncomfortable situation if you don’t tell me what I did wrong, so let’s hear it.  Did I mention the unmentionable?”

His mouth twitched in a tiny smile.

“No,” he said.  “I’m just fucking with you.  My age is no great and terrible secret, but the look of horror on your face over a potential _faux pas_ was something I’ll treasure forever.”

Belle wanted to grind her teeth, but decided not to rise to it.

“Fine,” she said thinly.  “Then how old are you?”

“I don’t know.”

_“Gold!”_

“No really, I don’t,” he assured her.  “At least not accurately. I believe that I was born in the seventh century, as you would calculate it, and that I was born at Midwinter, but beyond that - well, we never had much need to know what year it was.  It was the seasons that were important, the times to plant and harvest and store, and when the lambs started to be born. The festivals we held. How many years it had been since some arbitrary date tied to an unfamiliar god or a distant ruler never mattered to most of us.”

Belle leaned forward, curiosity burning inside her.

“Tell me about your mortal life.”

His eyes glittered.

“I thought you wanted to know about vampires.”

“I do.”

“Then let’s stick with that topic, shall we?”

“Alright,” she said.  “You mentioned that crucifixes were no use in repelling vampires.”

“Well, I suppose they might have a repellent effect on a few of my kind,” he said.  “I daresay there’s more than one who was highly religious in life and doesn’t wish to be reminded of how far they have strayed from the path, as it were.  I’m not one of them.”

“What about holy water?” she asked, and he shrugged, taking another drink.

“You may as well threaten me with a cup of tea.”

“So what _does_ work?” she asked.  “I’ve used holy water on a demon in the past.  It saved my life.”

“I’m not saying it’s useless,” he said.  “It just won’t work on vampires. We predate Christianity by some margin, so while holy water and crosses may work against newer forms of those that are other than human, it won’t work against us.”

“That’s interesting,” she said thoughtfully.  “That suggests that you’re all connected.”

“That we share the same parasite?”  He looked amused. “Perhaps we do.”

“Is there any other sort of connection?” she asked.  “Can you sense when other vampires are around?”

“Yes,” he said.  “But then I can sense a lot of other-worldly creatures, so I wouldn’t read too much into that.”

“And - and humans?”

“Oh yes,” he said quietly.  “I can certainly sense those.”

“What do you sense about me?” she asked, a little nervously.

He was silent for a moment, watching her.  The tips of long fingers caressed the smooth wood of the tabletop beneath them, as though he were stroking skin, and she tried to suppress a shiver of arousal.

“I sense a hunger,” he said softly.  “An almost overwhelming curiosity. A need.”

“For what?”

“For knowledge,” he said.  “For experience, for - satisfaction.”

“Here we go with the sex metaphors again,” she remarked dryly, and he grinned.

“You agreed to come to dinner, Miss French,” he said.  “I think we know each other well enough to admit that you have appetites.”

“You think I’m gonna sleep with you because you made me dinner?” she said witheringly.

“Certainly not.”

“Good.”

He reached for his wine glass, picking it up delicately between finger and thumb and taking a slow sip.  There was a clink as he put it down, and he let the tip of his tongue wet his lips, his eyes glinting at her.

“I think you’re going to sleep with me because I know how to make you come,” he said quietly.

There was silence for a moment as Belle met his gaze.  Her belly gave a traitorous lurch at the look in his eyes, and she tried to ignore it.  He waved a dismissive hand.

“Besides, we already established you have a monster kink,” he said lazily.  “I suggest you embrace it.”

“So you _did_ decide to tell me you’re a monster?” she said, her tone flat, and he grinned, white teeth gleaming.

“By some measures, yes,” he said.  “Doesn’t that turn you on?”

“Of course not,” she said coolly.  “Besides, I don’t think you’re a monster.”

“Hmm.”  He looked unconvinced, and took another drink.  “Your opinion is not shared by most, I fear.”

“What about in Storybrooke?” she said.  “Why did you choose to live in this town?”

He pushed the glass away from himself a little, sitting back in his chair before he answered.

“There’s been a settlement here for a long time,” he said finally.  “Long before it was called Storybrooke, and long before people crossed from Europe and invaded these lands.  Otherworldly creatures have made their home here for thousands of years.”

“Why?”

“I can’t explain it,” he admitted.  “There are some places in the world that have a different energy, a different aura.  Storybrooke is one of them. Perhaps because it’s still a place of magic, touching the old world, a thinning of the veil between dimensions.”

“There’s magic everywhere if you know how to harness it.”

“Indeed there is,” he agreed.  “But don’t you find spell-casting so much easier here?”

Belle hesitated.  It was true, she had found magic not only easier to use in Storybrooke, but had also found herself thinking of new ways to use it.  Crossing the town line had seemed to open her mind to wider possibilities than she was used to seeing. She resolved to ask Mulan and Aurora what they had felt, if anything.

“Okay,” she said slowly.  “So it’s like - a haven for those who are different?”

 _“Different.”_  He seemed to roll the word around on his tongue, looking amused.  “That’s a very open-minded description, Miss French. You’re losing some of your prejudice.”

“I’m sorry if you think I’ve been intolerant,” she said, a little stiffly.  “My experiences with other vampires haven’t exactly been successful.”

“Well, most humans are very much of the ‘kill first, ask questions later’ variety,” he said.  “I believe this is the first time I’ve sat down with a would-be student of the darker forms of life.”

“Being different doesn’t necessarily make you evil,” she said, and he smiled.

“Not necessarily, no,” he agreed.  “Sometimes there’s a choice to be made.”

“And what choice did you make?” she asked softly.

He took another drink, setting down his glass, the tip of his tongue sweeping across his lips as he did so.

“Life isn’t about one choice,” he said quietly.  “It’s a series of choices. Some I’m proud of, some I’m not.  Evil is a relative term. As is good.”

“Would you tell me about some of those choices?”

He smiled then, one elbow resting on the table, a finger stroking his upper lip.

“A topic of conversation for another evening, I think.”

“Are you expecting me to come for dinner again?”

His eyebrows twitched in amusement.

“Are you saying you won’t?”

Belle didn’t respond, turning to the remains of her food, and there was silence as they finished their meal.  She pushed the plate away a little, sitting back with a sigh and reaching for her almost-empty glass.

“That was very good,” she said. “Thank you.”

“More wine?”

“Please.”

He got up to take the plates, and Belle watched him go before getting up from the table and walking over to the fireplace.  The fire was unlit, the mantelpiece light grey marble, cool and smooth beneath her fingertips. A large mirror hung above, the frame gilded, with beading around the edge of the glass.  The chandelier was reflected behind her, multiple points of light casting a pleasant glow over the room with its deep pink walls and high ceilings and gleaming antique furniture, and for a moment she imagined how things might have been for him in other homes, in earlier times.  The towns and cities in which he had made his lair across the centuries, and the society he had moved in, with its changing fashions and focus and threats. Had he worn frock coats and breeches and fine linen shirts, and known women in crinolines with powdered wigs? Had he worn silk hose and velvet doublets and carried a sword at his hip?  Had he watched with the detachment of the unaffected while plague killed the humans around him in their thousands? Had he ever been lonely?

She eyed her reflection, her eyes a little darker in the low light, a flush in her cheeks from the wine she had drunk, her lips full and slightly parted.  She licked them a little nervously. Her heart was thumping, her belly tightening, her skin tingling, as though it was too sensitive, and she tried to tell herself it was the wine, or the warmth of the room.  Her mind whispered the truth she had been trying to ignore for some time: it was her own need, her desire. He was right about her, could see to the heart of her, and the realisation hit her with a force almost hard enough to steal her breath.  She would have sex with him. She would have sex with him and she would enjoy doing it, and feel zero shame.

Having faced her rising desire and acknowledged it, she actually felt better.  She took a deep breath, fixing her reflection with a stare, and nodded curtly. She heard footsteps off to the side, but didn’t glance around as Gold entered.  He stepped up behind her, reaching up to set two glasses of wine on the mantelpiece either side of her. His hands rested on the marble for a moment, his arms surrounding her, and it made her breath catch as she raised her chin.  The fingers lifted, his arms falling away to his sides, as though he was releasing her, and the breath she held rippled out over her lips.

“You look very determined,” he remarked.

His face was visible over her shoulder, and Belle studied his reflection in the mirror, the warm light gleaming on the shining sweeps of his hair.  His eyes were almost black, boring into hers, and she licked her lips.

“So,” she said.  “The mirror thing is also a myth, then?”

His mouth curled up in a smile, and he moved a little closer, until she felt his chest brush against her back. Her heart thumped harder, her breath quickening.

“Do you think I’m somehow incorporeal?” he asked, his voice a low rasp.  “I have a body, do I not?”

She swallowed hard.

“Yes.”

“And it feels real, when it’s pressed against yours?”

The bass tone of his voice seemed to vibrate through her, making her shiver.

“Yes,” she whispered.

There was silence for a moment, a silence that seemed tense and heavy, a weight in the air around her, pressing against her skin, as though a storm was coming.  Her heart was thumping, and she wanted the tension to break, to shatter. For him to turn her and kiss her and take her. He edged closer, nose sweeping across from one shoulder to the nape of her neck, as though he was inhaling her scent, and she squeezed her thighs together, yearning for the touch of his hands, his lips.

“May I touch you, Belle?” he whispered, and she nodded.

“Yes.”

Her voice was barely audible, a tiny hiss breathed into the air, and she felt his fingers first, sliding over her hips as he shifted closer, until his chest was pressing against her back.  The tugging in her belly became an ache as his fingers tightened, and he lifted one hand, catching in her hair and sweeping it to the side. He pressed his lips to the nape of her neck, and Belle shivered, the sensation making goosebumps ripple over her skin.  Her heart was thudding in her chest, and she wondered if he could hear it, if her need called to him. His mouth opened, soft and wet against her skin, and he sucked gently. She shuddered as she felt his teeth scrape her, and a thrill ran through her body, her pulse quickening.  Soft lips brushed her again, and he groaned, a low, bass rumble that she felt low-down in her groin.

“I thought you weren’t going to sleep with me,” he said softly.

“I can change my mind, can’t I?”

She felt him smile, and his hands slid down over her hips and beneath the skirt of her dress to slide up her thighs.  His fingers inched higher, over her hips, hooking under the waistband of her thong and gently drawing it down until it fell around her ankles.  Belle stepped out of it, licking her lips, and then his hands were on her again, sliding between her legs, index finger gently pushing between her folds.  She closed her eyes, gasping as she felt him release the slippery fluid that had formed there, and Gold growled again, his other hand moving up to cup her breast and squeeze.  His mouth trailed up her neck to brush against her ear.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered.

She obeyed, her eyelids flickering, and he was gazing at her in the mirror, his eyes dark pits, the light creating highlights and shadows from the bones and hollows of his face.  A perfect reflection.

“Are any of the stories real?” she whispered.

“Many.”

His fingers were stroking her, moving slowly through soft, wet flesh, and she let out a moan, her eyes sliding closed as bursts of pleasure went through her.

“Open your eyes.”

Belle licked her lips, concentrating on the feel of his fingers, the rhythm of movement against her clit.

“If the mirror shows your face, and holy water has no effect, then what _is_ real?” she breathed, and he smiled.

“You can learn my weaknesses another night, Miss French,” he murmured.  “I’m very much enjoying finding every last one of yours, after all.”

His finger pushed inside inside her, and Belle let her head roll back with a moan as he thrust, his thumb circling her clit, his tongue stroking over the nape of her neck and making her shudder with pleasure.  The sensations were incredible, rippling through her with the heavy throb of her pulse, perspiration beading on her upper lip as her breathing grew ragged.

“Look at me, Belle!” he said roughly.

She opened her eyes, the lids heavy, reluctant.  He was gazing at her intently, his jaw tight, his eyes dark, lips parted and the faintest gleam of light on his teeth.  His fingers thrust inside her, in time with the sweeping pad of his thumb, and she could feel her body growing taut, her limbs shaking as she neared her peak.  Gold bared his teeth in a snarl, his eyes gleaming.

“Come for me!”

Rigid fingers thrust rapidly, in and out, and Belle let out a whimper, a tiny cry that became something more, a desperate, keening wail.  White light burst behind her eyes as she came hard, and her legs buckled, his swift arm around her waist the only thing to hold her up as she jerked against his hand.  Waves of pleasure went through her, leaving shivers and loose-limbed languor in their wake, and he stilled his hand, pressing kisses to her neck as she tried to catch her breath.

Belle had closed her eyes, her head bowed, listening to her racing pulse and ragged breathing as the last remnants of pleasure left her.  She licked her lips, tasting the fresh salt on her skin. Her mouth was dry, and she wanted to reach for the glass of wine he had brought, but she didn’t quite trust herself to move.  Gold slowly withdrew his fingers from her, kissing her neck once more, and she met his eyes in the mirror. He inched back a little, letting her skirt fall back around her thighs again, and slid his hands over her shoulders, turning her to face him.  His lips were cool when he kissed her, and she wanted more, to peel off the silk he wore and suck on his skin and feel him inside her. Gold drew back, as though he could sense it, and held her gaze.

“Come to bed with me,” he said quietly, and she nodded.

“Yes.”


End file.
